


Never Go Drinking on A Thursday

by YaoiFanboy39



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biphobia, Bisexuality, Depression, Dry Orgasm, Embarrassment, Eventual relationship, Homophobia, M/M, Ms. Mystery, Numbness, One Night Stand, Questioning Sexuality, Rimming, Roommates, Self Loathing, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, The Dundies, alcoholic, bottom! Jim, drunken mistake, good and bad, losing oneself, set in Season Two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 38,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16190723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaoiFanboy39/pseuds/YaoiFanboy39
Summary: The Dundies and an open bar don't mix well, is what the workers of Dunder Mifflin quickly find out. Things easily get out of hand, and said things are caught on camera, courtesy of everyone’s favorite boss, Michael Scott. Though a seemingly meaningless one-night stand between two sworn ‘enemies’, Jim Halpert and Dwight Schrute, leads to a very real romantic relationship between the two, despite the trials and hardships of a gay couple in the early 2000’s.-------------------------------New update on August 1st





	1. Drunken Hookup

Dwight Schrute had done his fair share of stupid and reckless things. Most of the idiotic things occurred when the beet farmer was a bit over zealous or plain jealous. The more reckless of incidents came about when he was black-out drunk. This particular affair fell into the latter category. 

The entire office had went to Poor Richard’s to celebrate a Dundie’s Award ceremony, since a certain someone was no longer allowed in Chili’s. The Dundie’s had gotten off to a typical start: Michael failing to lip sync and blaming the problem on Dwight, Michael being belligerent when the audience didn’t ‘appreciate’ their trophies, along with their boss making passes at Ryan and awarding the temp with the infamous ‘Hottest in The Office’ trophy. Essentially the Dundie’s were always a train wreck of self-embarrassment (on Michael’s part). Since there was no drink minimum, the cluster of co-workers played some drinking games, some more willingly that others. Drinking games and an open bar did not end with everyone being self-aware. 

It is hard to say how many quickly regretted things happened, but all Dwight knew was that his was the worst. Jim challenged the impulsive man to a drinking game and from there all of Dwight’s memories went foggy. Dwight sat up in his bed, trying to recall how he got into his bedroom on his farm. He gave up after feeling the dull, repetitive thudding in his head. This hangover was a real bitch. Dwight, even though he was ever loyal to most all decisions Michael made, he thought having the Dundie’s on a Thursday was one of the dumbest ideas his boss has ever put into action.

Dwight stretched his arms above his head and brought them down in an arc, smacking a hard lump buried beneath the sheets on the right side of his bed. Dwight froze in shock and stared at the lump of sleeping body, shook to his core that he didn’t notice a person right beside him. A bit of sandy brown hair stuck out of the top of the comforter, but the rest of the snoring person was hidden beneath the sheets. Dwight’s stomach twisted when he realized it wasn’t Angela sleeping beside him. Well, unless Angela had dyed her hair and gotten rid of her sleep apnea mask. 

Dwight panicked, thinking of every possibility of whom this unknown person could be. The only logical person he could think of was a stranger at the bar. Dwight hoped that was the case. Curiously, he reached his hand out and touched the brown hair. Soft, he thought. He carefully slid the layers of sheets and blankets down to reveal the entirety of the messy hair and a bit of forehead. 

Hm, this hair looks suspiciously like a wig, Dwight snorted. That thought gave him a small jolt of courage and he slid down the bulk of bedding to reveal Jim’s face. Dwight didn’t know what to think or what to do. His annoying desk mate was sleeping soundly beside the stunned Dwight. He poked Jim’s cheek to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, even though the pounding in his skull and twisting gut told him otherwise. Jim wrinkled his nose slightly and shifted his body weight deeper into the mattress, still in a casual slumber.

“Jim!” Dwight hissed into the sleeping mans ear. That spurred no reaction, so Dwight shook Jim’s shoulder. 

Jim slowly opened his tired eyes and looked over at the person beside him. Jim’s immediate reaction to seeing Dwight was to assume this was a prank worked out by Pam. But a lack of humor painted on Dwight’s face, which were even missing its usual glasses, told him that this wasn’t a prank. Jim sat up quickly, wondering why the hell he was lying beside Dwight when a bolt of pain ran up from his ass to his lower back. 

Jim hissed at the pain in his ass and the sudden banging in his head. Suddenly, a wave of nausea swept through his body. Jim quickly, yet clumsily, tumbled out of the bed and grabbed a small trashcan and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. Dwight watched as Jim threw up into his trashcan with his jaw hanging open. The puking man was without pants, and underwear for that matter, but luckily his blue button down covered his bare cheeks. 

The taller male plopped down on his rear end. Turning to face Dwight, he decided to let Dwight initiate the conversation. Dwight looked away from Jim’s gaze and stood up and searched around for Jim’s pants. Once he located them, he tossed them over to the owner of the grey slacks and worked on buttoning his own. 

They awkwardly dressed themselves and sat in silence, not knowing quite where to start with this conversation. Dwight stood after a few minutes of deft silence and motioned for Jim to do the same. The farmer watched as Jim struggled and ultimately failed to get off the floor. He sighed and stuck his hand out, which Jim accepted, and pulled the other up. The two hungover men clomped down the hallway of the farmhouse and made their way down the creaky, wooden staircase.

Dwight felt a hand grab onto his shoulder, stopping him from continuing down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder to see Jim trying to steady himself. After a moment, Jim nodded, and Dwight continued his descent downward, letting Jim’s hand clasp onto his shoulder the whole way down. Jim slowly followed the tank top clad man to the kitchen, where they were met with Mose attempting to cook a fried egg. 

Dwight pushed his cousin out of the way, knowing full well how disastrous he was at cooking, and took over the frying, telling Mose to instead get some coffee started. Mose scurried off to the other side of the kitchen and meticulously played with the measurements. Jim sat at the table and rested his head on his left palm. He watched the cousins prepare breakfast with tired eyes. Jim knew full well that Dwight wouldn’t take any of Jim’s help if he offered, so the man continued watching as Dwight cooked up eggs and bacon. 

The three ate their breakfast while listening to the birds twittering outside. After eating two eggs over easy, Mose scurried outside and disappeared onto the vaste expanse of the Schrute property, leaving Dwight and Jim alone to sip their coffee and finish up their breakfasts. 

“I don’t really know what happened last night,” Dwight began. “But let’s pretend it never happened.” 

“I agree.” Jim rasped.

And the two left the conversation at that, vowing to pretend this never happened. That they never had a drunken one night stand. Once they got back to work, they would go back to their normal banter and put the previous night behind them and it would all be a distant memory.


	2. The Monday After

Walking into the Dunder Mifflin office Monday morning was a harrowing experience for both Jim and Dwight. Jim sat his messenger bag down on the floor beside his chair and glanced up to make eye contact with Dwight, who nodded slightly and returned to his computer. Just as Jim sat in his chair, Michael swung his office door open and walked out with a smug grin on his face. Jim sighed and turned to look at Michael, who had shouted for everyone’s attention.

“Conference room, five minutes!” Michael said over enthusiastically.

“Is this meeting an actual meeting?” Stanley said in a drawl. “Or is it something stupid?”

“Well,” Michael flattened his lips together. “If you want to see what you and Meredith were up to on Thursday, then yes.” 

The camera zoomed in on Stanley’s face, who looked horrified yet doubtful (because Michael is a notorious liar). He only sighed and returned to his computer. 

Jim and Pam walked together into the conference room together with Dwight following along quietly with his typical notepad and black pen. Pam whispered to Jim, “Just so you know, I am the one who drove you and Dwight home.” 

Jim’s eyes widened. He had a crush on Pam, even though she was engaged to Roy, and didn’t want Pam to think he liked anyone else. Especially not Dwight. Everything Dwight did annoyed him, so naturally Jim turned to pranking his coworker, letting his childish side shine through. Jim suddenly recalled Dwight sucking at his neck while his fingers worked Jim open. Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat and bounced his leg, wishing he would stop remembering snippets of that Thursday night out of the blue. 

Michael clapped his hands and walked into the conference room. “Alright! I take it everyone had a fun three-day weekend.” He pointedly looked at Jim and Dwight, who were sitting on either side of Pam. Kevin giggled and Angela glared at Dwight, who avoided eye contact with the petite blonde. 

Michael switched on the old TV he had wheeled in. “What I did is took all my favorite clips from this years Dundie’s and made them into a video!” 

Jim, who had mentally prepared for the worst over the weekend, found out he hadn’t prepared enough. The video started with everyone, including some warehouse workers who had shown up with Roy, take a shot. From there the drinking got heavier for majority of people, minus Toby and Angela. Everyone groaned when Meredith flashed her boobs at the camera and when Kelly and Ryan made out sloppily in front of the camera, seemingly on purpose. 

Then came the scene Jim and Dwight were dreading. On screen, Dwight grabbed Jim by the collar of his blue button down and kissed him hard on the lips while Creed, Meredith, and Kevin, who were part of that drinking game along with the kissing men, cheered. Pam, Michael, Darryl, and Roy stood nearby, watching as these two ‘enemies’ made out. And Michael made certain the whole, long make out scene played for everyone in the conference room to see. 

Dwight’s hands slipped under Jim’s shirt as they started using tongue. Jim grinded against Dwight impatiently. The camera turned to see Angela throw a glass of water at the two and storm out of the bar. The water splashed on Dwight, who pulled away from Jim who continued to hold onto the shorter mans sides. Dwight watched Angela storm away while Jim watched in a drunken daze. 

Thankfully, the camera changed to Stanley doing a crossword puzzle upside down. In the background, they could barely make out Pam leading Jim and Dwight out by the arm. Jim stopped paying attention to the video, which seemed to drag on for longer than necessary. Pam glanced over at Dwight to see him looking at the floor. Pam sighed. She wished Michael would just stop this nonsense and let them get back to work. But Michael was very indifferent to others embarrassment.

Five uncomfortable minutes passed as the people in the conference room stole glances at each other. They filed out of the conference room and silently went back to work. Everyone was ashamed of what they did, to an extent, and the fact that it was displayed for the office’s entertainment. 

Pam’s lunch break seemed to take forever to creep up. Once the clock turned noon, Pam stood up and walked to the break room, waving at her friend to follow. Jim followed her, ignoring the eyes on his back. Pam placed a few quarters in Jim’s palm, giving him a small smile. Pam sat and watched as Jim stared blankly at the variety of chips in the vending machine. The tall man let out a long sigh.

“You said you drove us to Dwight’s house, right?” Jim asked softly. The coins clanked as he slid them into the machine. He pressed the appropriate numbers for a bag of Fritos. 

“Yes.” Pam took the top off her mixed berry yogurt. “Only because the two of you insisted.” 

Jim sat down across from her and placed his bag of corn chips on the table. “For real?” 

Pam nodded solemly. 

Jim rested his head in his palms and let out another long sigh. He rubbed his face tiredly. “Did… did we make out in the backseat?” 

Pam tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it when a giggle fell past her lips. “Yes, you two were all over each other. I had to stop Dwight from pulling your pants off. We came to the compromise of me taking you two to Schrute Farm if you two didn’t go all the way in my backseat.” 

“Oh, god.” Jim was mortified. “I am so sorry.” 

Pam waved her hand indifferently. “Angela was pissed.” She took another bite from her yogurt. “Her and Dwight can’t be sleeping together anymore after that.”

Jim opened his Fritos. “Let’s just forget that ever happened. It was a one-time thing.”

Pam nodded and heeded Halpert’s wish. “Can I ask one more thing?” The other nodded his head. 

“Did you like it?” Jim’s head snapped up to see Pam grinning at him. 

“Shut it, Beesly.” Jim bit into another corn chip. He would never admit that it felt good while it happened, but his ass and hips hurt the day after. Maybe he would have to sleep with another man while sober to see how good it actually felt.


	3. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim asks Dwight out on a proper date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ごめんなさい! My laptop was being a shitbag and wouldn't load. But hey, it's still Monday about 11 p. m. where I live. I want to thank all the lovely people who have been reading NGDOAT. It means so much to me. Anywho, i hope you enjoy this update and look forward to Thursday's update! 
> 
> [This chapter wasn't edited, so please let me know if there are any grammar mistakes and I'll be sure to fix them]

Tuesday morning, Jim walked into work with a deep frown etched on his handsome face. He gave Pam, who was surprised by his distressed demeanor, a slight nod. He walked heavily over to Dwight. Dwight looked up at Jim, practically begging him to say something. 

“Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a second?” Jim asked.

Dwight took a sip of his black coffee before nodding. He stood and followed Jim to the kitchen area between their work space and the annex. Dwight leaned against the counter and watched as Jim shakily poured a cup of coffee. Dwight’s eyebrows drew together as he studied Jim’s tired face. There were dark circles painted under his eyes and a frown etched lines around his mouth. 

Dwight watched as Jim’s eyes went out of focus as he stared at the coffee steaming in his mug. “Did you sleep at all last night?” He asked.

Jim’s shoulders jumped up ever so slightly as he was torn from his stupor. He scratched his temple and laughed. “No, I didn’t. Not at all.” 

The two made eye contact and didn’t drop their gaze. Jim rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to gather his thoughts. The man before him was wavering his attraction to Pam. Jim knew he had a crush on Pam. He knew that for certain. But he also liked Dwight. Why exactly, he hadn’t worked that out yet. Maybe it was because of the way Dwight took charge of everything, or the fact that he worked extremely hard and never took anything that was offered to him in consideration. 

Jim really did not know if he should give up on Pam. For one, she’s engaged to Roy, who is all wrong for her. Roy was controlling and not considerate. But Pam loves him, and where is Jim to judge? Who ever said he was right for her? Maybe it would be best if he just let Pam live her love life without him and continue being friends. 

“Dwight,” Jim said finally. “Would you go to lunch with me today? I think I really want to give this a try.”

“Oh.” Dwight said, a little lost for words. He did want to continue whatever it was they had going on, but was it such a good idea? This is Jim. Is he trustworthy? A glance at Jim’s sincere face told Dwight that the man really meant this and he wanted to try things out. “Okay.”

Jim’s lips twitched upward. “Alright. Cool then.” He grabbed his mug, trying not to spill any of the hot coffee. “It’s a date.” 

Dwight watched Jim leave, eyes trailing down to his ass. Damn, did it look good in those tight gray pants. Dwight smirked and followed behind Jim, readily awaiting the next time he could indulge in the man’s body.

Around noon the pair headed out of the office and toward the parking lot. Jim fished his keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his long index finger. 

“Shotgun!” Dwight called to no-one but himself and hurried over to Jim’s Camry. 

“Dwight, you know you don’t have to call shotgun; we’re the only ones here.” He sighed. 

“Well, you could have made me sit in the back.” Dwight retorted. “Therefore I called shotgun before you sat your coat in the passenger side.” 

Jim looked over at the man, whom had just spouted nonsense. “Do you really think I’d make my date sit in the backseat?” 

Dwight pursed his lips and walked to the passenger side and climbing in. “Hmm, I do have my doubts about your actions.”

Jim turned the key in the ignition. “I can say the same about you.” Jim looked over his shoulder as he backed his car out of the parking space. “You’re too wary.”

Dwight scoffed. “I am not. I just like to be prepared.”

“M’kay then.” Jim glanced over at him. “Now, do you really need to carry three knives with you?”

“Uh, yes. Jim, how many times have I told you about the importance of different knives.” Dwight sighed dramatically, making Jim smile. 

He let the man babble about the different uses of each blade and why he carried them. As Dwight flapped his lips, Jim recalled his conversation with Pam a half hour ago. She had said to take Dwight to a place where he could eat lots of meat, which was his favorite, and to split the check. Knowing Dwight wouldn’t want Jim to pay for his meal, he agreed to Pam’s idea and decided to stick with it. 

Jim turned the car into a half full parking lot and parked in a space underneath a small tree with pink buds. He put the car in park, turned off the ignition, and got out. He and Dwight walked beside each other to the Cajun restaurant. Jim pulled open the door and ushered Dwight to go ahead of him. He opened his mouth to say something like ‘walking in front makes me prone to attacks’ but Jim placed a hand over his mouth lightly. He bent down and whispered, “Just go in.”

Dwight stared at him for a few seconds before nodding once and stepping inside with Jim hot on his tail. The waitress, who had watched the event unfold with curiosity, smiled at the two tall men towering over her short, round body. “Hello, gentlemen. Party of two?” She smiled.

“That’s correct.” Dwight said in his typical assertive tone. 

The waitress kept a smile on her deeply tanned skin. “Alright then, please follow me.” She grabbed two menus and two bunches of silverware before walking towards a smaller booth placed beside a wall adorned with pictures and banners of all things related to Cajun food and the owners of the restaurant. The men slid into the booth opposite each other and the waitress placed their silverware and menus down on the table separating the two. 

“What can I get you to drink?” She glanced between the two, watching wordlessly as the bespectacled man checked underneath the table with squinted eyes. 

“I’ll just have water.” Jim said. He reached his long arm across the table and tapped the top of the older mans head. “Dwight, what do you want to drink?”

He raised his head up, now satisfied there weren’t any bombs attached to the table and answered, “I’d like a beer, please.” 

“Sure,” she said. “What kind?” 

Dwight shrugged. “Whatever’s cheapest.” 

“Alright then,” She scribbled a bit on her notepad. “I will get that to you as soon as possible.”

Jim flipped open his menu, scanning the lunch specials. Hm, the gumbo sounds good, Jim thought to himself. Maybe he and Dwight could split the seafood platter. It came with an array of small portioned sides along with strips of catfish, oysters, jumbo shrimps, and crab legs. Jim pointed this out to Dwight who agreed. 

The waitress, who they just realized was named Lunai, set a tall glass of frothy beer and a glass of iced water down on the table. Lunai pulled her notepad from the right pocket in her apron and clicked her pen. “Have you two decided what you would like to eat or do you need another minute?” 

“No, we’ve decided.” Dwight replied. “We will have the seafood platter with sides of cheese grits, red beans and rice, and fried okra.”

Lunai wrote their order down and slipped her ballpoint pen behind her left ear. “Alright, that will be about twenty minutes. If you need anything else, let me know!” 

Jim rolled his straw wrapper into a ball and flicked it, giggling as it bounced off Dwight’s forehead and onto the table. 

“Really, Jim? Really?” 

“Come on,” Jim raised his eyebrows playfully. “Lighten up a bit. We aren’t at work, you know.” 

Dwight took a large gulp of his alcohol and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m drinking, aren’t I? That should give you a clue that I am relaxing.” 

“Fair enough.” Jim took a sip of his water, his eyes trained on Dwight as he stared up at the art on the wall. Jim smiled to himself. He looked cute gazing up at the paintings in wonder. 

Schrute looked away from the wall and looked at the man opposite of him. “Have you been here before?”

“Mm, nope.” He chuckled in response. “Always wanted to though, but no one I know, besides you, likes Cajon food.” 

“I’m sure Kevin does.” Dwight said, causing Jim to snort. 

The two joked as they waited on their food to arrive. The large plates of food were mouthwatering. They all looked and smelled delicious. They both dove into the food, not caring much to make a show of eating politely. They dug into the grub, sharing and stealing bits of food off the others plate. They joked, which was rare for Dwight, and laughed, utterly relaxing themselves and enjoying the food and company.

Jim dipped a shrimp into cocktail sauce and held it out to Dwight, who took it easily and popped it in his mouth, nodding in appreciation. Next, Jim held his fork full of grits out to Dwight, who took the food offered to him. It really was feeling like a date, not just two friends getting lunch together. The two finished their food slowly, along with Dwight polishing off two more beers. Their waitress reappeared and asked if they wanted dessert, to which they both politely declined. She left their check on the table and took their used dishes back to the kitchen. 

Dwight covered his mouth as a burp made its way up his throat. Jim rested his head on the booth, feeling too full to move. “You wanna just split the check?” Jim asked. 

“No,” Dwight hiccupped. “I’m paying.”

Jim was too tired and stuffed to argue and knew that a buzzed Dwight wouldn’t change his mind. He was extremely headstrong, especially when drunk. Dwight felt around his hip and pulled out his genuine leather wallet, placing his debit card in the Lunai’s hand, telling her to add a five dollar tip. 

“Five dollars, huh? Figured you’d skimp out and pay a buck or two.” Jim joked. 

“Eh,” Dwight shifted his position and sat up. “They need an income too.” 

Jim smiled. “Yeah, they sure as hell do.” 

After Lunai returned Dwight’s card and receipt, Jim tossed his arm over Dwight’s shoulders, walking that way at a steady pace. They reached the door and Jim slid his arm off Dwight’s shoulders, knowing full well that the two of them would never fit through the door frame side by side. Jim pushed the door open, sparking Dwight to presume this was the perfect time to slap Jim’s ass. 

Dwight reveled in the way Jim’s cheeks burned a rosy pink. He laughed pulled Jim by the elbow to his car. Dwight proceeded to blast Black Sabbath with the windows down, causing Jim to just shake his head in fake annoyance. 

This really was a nice first date, Jim thought. He honestly didn't know how it could of went better.


	4. Flat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets a flat tire on the way home from work and calls Dwight, who comes and helps him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hyped up on Red Bull so I decided to add a little something extra for you guys ;)  
> 

In the following two weeks, Jim and Dwight continued to warm up to each other romantically. Playful winks, light teasing, casual lunch dates every Friday. If the others in the office had yet to notice anything going on between the two, they were bound to soon enough. The two men didn't try to hide the fact they were getting along better than ever.

Jim cursed as he looked at the nail sticking out of his tire. Great. Just great. He was on the street trying to get back home after a long day at work, currently pulled over to the curb inspecting his flat tire. Now, Jim would be lying if he said he knew how to properly change a tire. Jim was clueless when it came to things requiring him to use his hands.  
Jim pulled out his Blackberry, dialing Dwight, knowing for certain his boyfriend would know how to change a tire. 

“Dwight Schrute.” Dwight answered as he always did.

“Hey, Dwight.” Jim said. “Um, I got a flat and didn’t know exactly how to change the tire.”

“Seriously?” Dwight asked incredulously. “Jim, you own a car and don’t know how perform simple, possibly life-saving, tasks?” 

“Apparently so.”

Dwight sighed. “Okay, where are you? I’ll be there soon to help you.”

Jim ignored the flutter in hid chest and told Dwight where he was. After Dwight promising he would be there in twenty minutes, Jim hung up and stared around, wondering how exactly to pass the time. Spotting a convenience store on the corner, Jim decided that would be a good place to get out of the muggy weather for the time being. He wondered inside, not looking for any particular item. 

He walked down the aisles, observing the many different mini bags of chips there were. Hm, who knew there were so many of the same flavor but in different packaging and different brand names printed on the front of the brightly colored plastic. He went down another aisle and stumbled upon the condoms and lubricant. Jim paused, suddenly remembering his drunken hookup with Dwight. How exactly had they done it? There was lots of lube for sure.

He had tried to stretch himself out with just saliva, but one finger in he realized that would not suffice. Jim drummed his fingers on his leg, trying to figure out which lube would work best for anal sex. Not that he was planning on having it soon, he just wanted to be prepared for when it did happen again. There was a bottle that said it was designed specifically for the purpose Jim had in mind. He nabbed it off the shelf and walked to the check-out line. 

Unluckily for Jim, the person ringing him out was a man, taller than himself, with a nasty glare and frown. Jim gulped, worried the man would read into what he was fixing to buy. Jim awkwardly placed the lube on the counter along with a Snickers bar he grabbed impulsively. Jim stared at the cigarettes behind the man, purposefully ignoring the mans piercing gaze on his face. 

“Do you need cigarettes, too?” The man asked, his voice deep and gruff. 

“Oh, uh, no. No, I don’t.” Jim stuttered out awkwardly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. 

“This all you need?”

Jim nodded, feeling his throat clench. The man spit out his total and Jim swiped his debit card, wishing the transaction would hurry up and complete. Since when did it take so long to go through? Jim let out a loud breath when his receipt finally printed. 

The guy gave him a nod. “Take it easy, man. Relax a bit. You look like you’re about to pop a blood vessel.” He chuckled. 

Jim let out a strained laugh. “Y-Yeah, okay.” 

Jim left the convenience store, feeling a bit unnerved, and shook the tenseness out of his shoulders and continued back to his car. He shoved the lube in his deep jacket pocket and unwrapped his candy bar, taking a large bite. 

The stoplight down behind his car turned green and Jim immediately spotted Dwight’s red Camaro. The car pulled to the curb behind his Camry, and Dwight stepped out into the light sprinkle of rain. He walked over to Jim and stopped in front of him. 

“You wanna get this thing done or what?” 

Jim nodded, his mouth full of chocolate, peanuts, caramel, and nougat. Dwight smirked and reached his hand out, threaded his finger through the hair on the back of Jim’s head, pulled his head down and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Dwight walked to his car and pulled out a jack and spare tire. Jim nearly choked on the candy in his mouth. He suddenly got his senses back after the sudden and unexpected kiss and looked around, eyes locking with the cashier from the corner store. The burly man blew out a lungful of smoke and winked at Jim. 

It was then Jim realized that the man ringing him out wasn’t glaring at him. He just had an intense gaze and a scary frame. He was actually a nice guy and didn’t comment on what Jim bought and he didn’t appear to be homophobic either. Hell, he had winked when he saw the two of them kiss. 

Jim looked at his feet, turning back to face Dwight who was busy wrestling with the jack and explaining what he was doing to Jim, who crouched down beside the laboring man to better understand what he was doing. The taller man munched on his candy bar as Dwight walking him through on how to properly change a flat tire. Once Dwight was through, he told Jim to take his car to an auto-mechanic, so he could get a normal sized tire for his car. 

Dwight followed him over to the nearest mechanic, waiting as Jim dropped his car off. He came back outside, wishing he had an umbrella, and slid into the passenger side of Dwight’s sports car. The rain suddenly started falling quickly, sheets of water droplets hitting the car loudly. 

“It wasn't supposed to rain today,” Jim pointed out.

Dwight scoffed. “Do you actually trust those weather predictions? Jim, predictions is right in the name!” 

“Well, I use them as a guide. They’re better than any guess I’ve got.”

“Well, as a paper salesman slash beet farmer slash inn keeper, I am always prepared for anything.” Dwight said matter of factly. But he had no reason to point that out for Jim was painfully aware of how true that was. 

Dwight produced an umbrella out of a (secret?) compartment in the floorboard and handed it to Jim. “See, Jim,” He said smugly, “It’s good to always be prepared.”

Jim cocked his head to the side, listening to the loud rain pound against the outside of the car in torrents. “Is that so?”

Dwight stared at him. “Ye-“ but was quickly cut off when Jim grabbed his brown tie and yanked him forward, much like a dog on a leash, and kissed him hard. Dwight’s eyes widened in surprise and Jim pulled back, licking his lips. 

“Seems like you were the one surprised.” Jim pointed out. 

Dwight wrapped his left hand over the one clenching his tie and sneaked his other hand to Jim’s face, leaning over to meet Jim’s soft lips eagerly. The two melded their lips together and intertwined their tongues. Dwight moved his left hand slowly up Jim’s arm and to his chest, feeling a hard nipple through the thin fabric of Jim’s white button up. Skillfully opening the buttons with his right hand all the while skimming his fingers over Jim’s torso, claiming his body. 

Once enough buttons were undone, Dwight slipped both his hands inside his boyfriend’s shirt and pinched his nipples, loving the way Jim stopped moving his lips while he did. Dwight removed his mouth from Jim’s and instead let it trail down to his neck, sucking gently while fondling the mans sensitive nipples. Jim let out small groans of appreciation and help his head back, his body jolting when Dwight bit his neck slightly. He removed his hands, much to Jim’s disappointment, and decided to clasp Jim’s face gently between his palms. 

Dwight leaned close to Jim’s ear, still holding the panting mans face in his hands, and whispered softly, “Do you want me to continue? I noticed you’re about to escape your pants.”

Jim burned dark red but nodded. “Yes. Just- just continue.”

Dwight smirked and reached down to unbuckle Jim’s belt, unzip and unbutton his slacks, and pull down his boxers enough to let the man free from the restraint of the clothing. And, oh god, did Dwight know how to make Jim feel good. Each stroke and turn of his wrist had Jim moaning shamelessly. Soon, he released with a cry, letting his head flop back and rest on the window of the car as he regained his breathing. 

Dwight cleaned off the residue of Jim’s pleasure with a handkerchief and leaned over to kiss his exposed chin softly. “You seemed to enjoy that despite the fact we are in my car.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, having now regained his breath. “It’s a good thing you parked in the back.”

“And that no one else is here.” Dwight added.

Jim laughed. Getting a flat today actually turned out to be pretty good, Jim realized. Sure, he had to pay to get a new tire since the old was blown, but he got a sweet treat to make up for it.


	5. Marks' Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to a little bit of spying, Mark (Jim's roommate) finds out who Jim's mysterious date is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, yep, I am two days late with this update. There's a lot of reasons this chapter is up late but the main one is that I was debating whether or not I wanted to make this story rated M. That and the chapter I was gong to post Monday would've been the climax of the story and that would have come way too fast (haha) and without enough buildup. I'm leaving you on a cliff hanger today so be ready for tomorrow's chapter. 
> 
> In summary, starting today, this story is rated M!

Pam and Jim sat together in the break room, skipping out on work while eating chips from the vending machine. They chatted easily about the stupid things Michael had done so far that day. 

“So,” Pam said, decidedly changing the topic. “How are you and your boyfriend?” She wiggled her eyebrows, causing Jim to laugh. 

“We’re doing surprisingly well.” Jim answered. “He hasn’t been an insufferable know-it-all. He’s politer now.” 

Pam nodded. “How many dates have you been on?”

“Hmm, just two lunch dates. One at that Cajun restaurant two weeks back and another two days ago, Tuesday.” 

“You should go on another this Friday!” Pam insisted excitedly. “You two could go see a movie then head back to his house.” She grinned.

“Okay, wow.” Jim bit his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting something, Beesly?” 

She gave him a smug look. “Perhaps I am.” 

“In that case, I just might ask him.” The words popped out of Jim’s mouth before he could think them over. He had a Homer Simpson ‘doh!’ moment as he was walking back to he and Dwight’s desk clump. 

Jim looked down at the top of Dwight’s head and tapped his brown hair. Dwight turned and looked up, raising an eyebrow at Jim. “Need something?” He asked bluntly.

“Yeah, actually,” Jim answered. He leaned down closer to Dwight’s ear to prevent Phyllis, who was leaning ever so slightly back in her chair, from hearing what he was going to say. “Wanna go out tomorrow night? See a sci-fi movie or something?” 

Jim let his chin gaze over Dwight’s shoulder as they both stared straight ahead at Pam’s empty desk. “There are no movies in the theatre I’d like to see.” Jim felt his heart sink. “However,” Dwight continued. “There is a Battlestar Galactica rerun on cable TV that I enjoy.” 

Jim smiled. “So, we will go to your place after work tomorrow?”

Dwight nodded once. “That would be enjoyable.”

Jim snorted at Dwight’s extreme politeness. He patted the beet farmer on the shoulder before turning and giving Pam a double thumbs up as she walked back to her reception desk.   
_______________________

Jim greeted his roommate, Mark, as he walked into his shared apartment after work that day. He graciously accepted the beer handed to him and popped open the cap with a bottle opener. The two sat on the brown, leather couch and watched a random basketball game that was on. 

“You look awfully happy.” Mark said during a commercial break. “Did you go on another date?” He nudged Jim with his elbow. 

“No, but I am tomorrow night, so I probably won’t be coming home until the next morning.” 

“Hell yes!” Mark cheered. “She’s finally letting you get it, yeah?” 

Jim scratched the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious that he was the girl, per se, in this situation. “Yeah,” He forced fake laughter. 

“Dude, you gotta show me a photo of her! You always avoid my questions when I ask about her appearance.”

Yes, Jim thought, there is a reason for that. “Alright, fine, I’ll describe them.” 

Mark shrugged. “Not a picture, but better than nothing.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Well,” he started quietly. “They have short brown hair, glasses, and love the outdoors.”

“Eh, no wonder you never wanted to describe her; She sounds ugly.” 

Jim looked over at him, appalled with his statement. “No, they are attractive. Besides, looks aren’t the only thing to a person.”

Mark waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But they’re a nice attribute especially during sex.”

Jim stood up. “Okay, that’s enough.” 

“Jim!” Mark called, but he ignored his friends flimsy excuse and continued up the stairs to his bedroom. 

Jim locked the door behind him, flopping down on his bed with a sigh. He wondered if he and Dwight were really going to have anal sex again, or if it would just be handjobs or blowjobs. Either way, Jim wanted to be prepared for anything. 

He drained the rest of the beer from its bottle and tossed it into the trashcan underneath his desk. Jim quickly unbuckled his belt and pushed his dress pants down, so they pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of the fabric and pulled his socks off, realizing that the thoughts of Dwight and himself getting it on had made him hard. He loosened his black tie and reached into his bedside drawer for the bottle of lube he bought at the corner store. 

Popping the cap open for the third time since he bought it, he poured a generous amount onto his fingers and the outside of his hole. He flipped over onto his knees with his face and shoulders pressed into the springy mattress. Jim easily slid his index finger inside and made small circles, enjoying the tingling sensation on the inner walls of his ass. He bit his tongue as he pushed his middle finger inside, pushing the two long fingers in and out. He grabbed ahold of his erection with his right hand and ran his hand over the shaft as he continued to finger himself. 

Jim let out a small moan as his fingers rubbed over a sensitive area inside of his asshole. He shuddered and sped up the hand on his hard cock. Jim pushed his fingers in farther, trying to find his prostate. “Ngh!” He let out as his fingertips brushed up against his prostate and his knuckles ran over a sensitive area along his inner walls. He panted, feeling his orgasm build up. A couple more thrusts of his fingers and jerks of his hand had him cumming onto his hand and bedsheet.   
He pulled his fingers out and rested both his hands on the bed, trying to slow his rapid heartbeat and heavy breathing. Jim’s thighs trembled as he sat up onto his knees, grabbing some tissues to wipe up the cum before it stained his sheet. He wiped the lube from his asshole and laid down. He pulled his throw blanket over his body as fell into a restful slumber.

____________

Jim gave Pam a thumb up as he and followed Dwight out the office door Friday as work ended. Pam mirrored his action and watched the two tall men leave with a slight smile on her face. She was happy for Jim. He deserved someone to treat him well and as rough as Dwight may seem, he’s very caring. Dwight has a hard time expression his feelings but never fails to do something nice to show his true admiration or feelings for someone. 

Jim, Dwight, and Stanley rode down the elevator in silence. It wasn’t often when Stanley had someone on the elevator with him, seeing as he ran out the second the clock turned five. The doors opened, and the couple let Stanley breeze his way out the front doors of the building in front of them. 

“The show starts at eight, so I’ll pick you up at your apartment at half past seven.” Dwight said.

Jim smiled. “Seven-thirty it is.” 

The two hours before Dwight was going to arrive at his shared apartment was spent on the couch bouncing his leg in nervous anticipation. Mark showed up at six after his shift at Home Depot and plopped down beside Jim, whom sat with his arms crossed, eyes trained on the TV. Jim informed Mark that he would leaving at seven-thirty sharp, because his date was never late. 

“Okay,” Mark laughed. “I won’t bother her when she comes to the door.” 

“Good. Stay in the other room or something, if possible.” Jim said, scared of what Mark would say if he saw that his date was a man. 

But, of course, Mark had to peek to see what Jim’s secret date looked like. He peeked out from behind the wall, staring at the doorway. Jim’s large frame blocked most of the doorway, but Mark could see glimpses of the outline of the woman’s frame. Jim bent down to his bag, showing the entirety of the large figure standing with hands on their hips.

Mark’s mouth fell open when he realized that Jim’s date was most certainly not a woman. There was no mistaking that he was a man. The man pushed up his glasses and stared straight into Mark’s eyes, who was too shocked to try and hide. The man smirked and grabbed Jim, who had just stood up, by the collar and kissed him. 

“Wow, Dwight.” Jim’s low voice drifted into Mark’s strained ears. “Shouldn’t you save that for later?” His roommate asked slyly.

The other man, Dwight apparently, chuckled and leaned forward to press a kiss to Jim’s neck, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Mark’s. Dwight raised his eyebrows suggestively and pulled away from his partners neck. Grabbing his hand, the two made their way out of the apartment. Jim closed the door, shutting Mark out from seeing anything more. 

“What?” Mark said aloud, knowing no-one besides himself was there. “What the hell was that?!”


	6. Blissfully Unaware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Dwight spend a lustful night together, blissfully unaware of their new, dreadful situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, I got this update up on time. It's about damn time, huh? This chapter is a little over 1k words, but it is filled with some much needed smut. Enjoy ;)

No, there was no way. No way that his roommate was dating a dude. Mark stared shellshock at the front door. A bubble of disgust rose up his throat. “Fucking fags," he spat.

He turned and stomped up to Jim’s room, swinging the door open angrily. He tore through his dresser and night table drawers, no thoughts of the mans right to privacy ran through Mark’s mind filled, which was filled with revulsion. He let out a growl as he found a bottle of lube used specifically for anal penetration in Jim’s night table drawer. He snatched it out of its hiding place, stomped over to the window, and pulled it open harshly. He chucked the bottle as far as he could and watched it sail through the black sky and into the small wooded area behind the apartment building.

Mark turned and saw multiple pictures of Jim and his coworkers sat around the room. He cursed Jim in his head and grabbed the photos and their frames and tossed them all out the open window. More and more of Jim’s belongings fell onto the grass outside, some shattering and others gathering in a clump of fabric. Mark stared around Jim’s room, which was now stripped of décor, panting. 

That faggot has been living in the same place as me, Mark thought. He shuddered and stomped down the stairs. He glared at the couch that he and that lying queer had sat minutes before watching a basketball game and sipping beers carefree. “Damn him,” Mark sneered. That faggot is going to get what he deserves, Mark thought maliciously. 

``````

Dwight pulled Jim upstairs, skipping the TV completely. Each of the men were too horny to sit beside each other while pretending to watch Battlestar Galactica. Jim walked into Dwight’s room first, the other man followed suit. He slammed the door closed with authority. Dwight grabbed Jim by the hips and spun him around, pining him to the door with a leg between his and his hands holding Jim’s above his head. Dwight latched his lips to the trapped mans, slipping his tongue into his mouth. 

Dwight rearranged his grip on Jim’s wrists, holding them both loosely in his left hand. He slid his hand under Jim’s sweatshirt and tee shirt, running his hand over the mans abdomen. Jim pushed his hips forward, rubbing both of their erections together. Dwight pulled his tongue out of Jim’s mouth and placed a kiss under Jim’s jaw. He sucked a hickey onto the soft skin and pinched Jim’s nipple. 

Jim moaned. “God, Dwight, stop teasing.” 

Dwight licked over the red spot he had sucked onto Jim’s skin. He looked up into Jim’s eyes. “You’re so hot when you moan and twitch from my hands running over you.” 

Jim’s face burned crimson. “Shut up.” 

Dwight snickered. He led Jim by the elbow to the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress face first. Dwight climbed over him and pulled Jim’s sweatshirt off. He tossed it to the floor, grabbed Jim’s hips, and pulled them up. He reached around to the front of Jim’s pants and unbuttoned his jeans, puling them down teasingly slow. Once Halpert’s jeans bet his knees, Dwight stopped pulling. 

Now with Jim’s pretty ass on display, Dwight decided to try something a little different. Using his hands, Dwight pulled the mans cheeks apart, exposing his hole. Jim let out a shuddered gasp when he felt Dwight’s tongue flick over his hole lightly and cautiously. Jim bit his tongue between his front teeth as Dwight licked broad stripes on the outside of his asshole. The tip of Dwight’s tongue dug into the muscled cavern, leading Jim to cry a mantra of ‘Oh, god! Oh, god!’ over and over in his head. 

A few blissful minutes passed as Dwight worked his partner open with his tongue, thoroughly enjoying the pretty moans escaping from Jim’s mouth every time his tongue flicked against the right spot. “Dwight,” Jim managed to say. “St-Stop or I’m gonna cum.” 

Dwight heeded his request and pulled his face back. He landed his palm on Jim’s ass, giving it a nice slap. Jim’s face pulled itself off the mattress for a fraction of a second before settling back down. Dwight felt his cock twitch in his pants at the sight of Jim, bare assed with his face in the mattress. Goddamn, he was hot. So, fucking hot. 

Dwight stripped off his pants and underwear, his thick cock springing upward. He squired a bit of lubricant onto his fingers and pushed two into Jim’s relaxed hole. He fingered and stretched his boyfriend’s hole, easily slipping in a third digit. Dwight pulled his slick fingers from Jim and slid a condom onto his rock-hard erection. He pushed into the arousing hole nice and deep. 

Dwight pulled back and slammed into Jim’s hips roughly. Dwight leaned forward, still burying his dick deeply, and grabbed Jim’s mop of unruly hair. He tugged at Jim’s hair, eliciting a whimper from the man on bottom. Dwight licked his lips and slipped his other arm around Jim’s flat chest, pulling him upward. His hand slipped from Jim’s chest and rested his palm on the bed. Dwight clenching his fist in both Jim’s hair and the blue sheets. 

Mark kicked the brick outside, feeling the end of his toes bloom in pain. He kicked again. And again. Every kick Mark gave matched with every deep thrust Dwight drove into Jim’s ass. The movements they made were to release the feelings inside, whether it be lust or anger. Either way, it worked. 

Jim cried out Dwight’s name as the other man jerked him off quickly while simultaneously pounding into him. He came all over the sheets with an embarrassingly loud moan. Jim rode out his orgasm as Dwight gave a few sloppy thrusts before finishing. 

All three were panting by the time they had released what was building inside of them. Dwight pulled out of Jim and threw the used condom in the trash. Mark rested his head against the brick, feeling it scrape his forehead. 

Tenderly, Dwight placed a kiss on Jim’s swollen lips. They goofily smiled at each other, blissfully unaware they were on someone’s mind. Perhaps it was better they didn’t know what was plotted against them. It was better Dwight and Jim share a nice night, which, in turn, would bring them closer and hopefully strengthen their body within.


	7. Severed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pam and Dwight are worried about Jim's absence on Monday. They go to his apartment to check up on him but find out things have taken a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yea, it's me again lmao. I'm sorry for not uploading last week. I got caught up in the spirit of Halloween and didn't have time to update. And the weekend I realized I had no clue how I wanted Jim to react to the disastrous situation. But I got the inspiration today so I belted this one out. If there are any grammar mistakes, please inform me in the comments. Otherwise, please enjoy!

When Jim didn’t show up to the office on Monday, Dwight did not think much of it. The two never really called or texted each other on the weekend, so Dwight had no reason to assume anything was amiss. He just assumed Jim’s ass hurt too much to come into work. 

But Pam was more worrisome than Dwight. She had sent multiple messages to Jim over the weekend. Every text was delivered but not read or responded to. Pam looked at her phone and sighed. She stood up, smoothed down her grey pencil shirt, and walked over to Dwight’s desk.

“Hey, Dwight,” Pam greeted softly. 

“Hello, Pam,” Dwight replied curtly, as per usual. 

Pam shifted and leaned down a bit closer to the seated man. “Have you talked or seen Jim since Friday?” 

Dwight smirked and typed something on his computer. “We talked as I drove him home Saturday morning.”

Pam looked at the camera. “Um, okay, thanks.” She turned away and walked back to reception, still not convinced that Jim was okay. 

`````````````````

Pam said goodnight to everyone at Dunder Mifflin as they walked out the door that lead to the hallway. Pam stopped Dwight and waited until everyone, including Michael, had left before discussing her gut feeling with him. Dwight scoffed but looked unsettled. After Pam insisted they go check up on Jim, Dwight agreed quickly and hurried down the stairs, not caring to wait for the elevator. Pam hopped into the passenger side of Dwight’s car and clutched onto the seatbelt as Dwight peeled out of the parking lot.

They arrived at Jim’s apartment complex shortly (due to Dwight going well over the speed limit). They walked up the stairs to the second floor and knocked on Jim and Mark’s door. No one answered. 

“Jim!” Dwight called and banged on the wood harder. “Jim are you there?” 

Once again, no answer. It was eerily quiet in the narrow hallway. Pam shivered. “Jim!” Pam called. “We just want to know if you’re okay.”

Dwight sighed and rested his forehead on the door. “Is he not here?”

Pam flattened her lips into a thin line. “I-I don’t know. Where else could he be, if not here?” 

Dwight peeled his forehead of the door and turned to face Pam. “His car was parked out front. So, logically speaking, he should be in here.” He gave the door a few taps with his knuckles. 

Finally, they heard the lock unlatch and the door creaked open a little bit. Jim poked his head out and Pam gasped at his swollen black and blue eye. Jim opened the door just enough to fit a body in sideways and silently beckoned them inside. Jim locked the door back with shaky fingers. He scurried into the living room and sat down on the leather couch covered with drained beer bottles. 

Pam and Dwight surveyed the mess of a room. The curtains were drawn over all windows and the glass sliding door was covered by two bedsheets that were duct taped to the wall. Light scarcely filtered through the thin curtains, casting odd shadows over the otherwise unlit main room and kitchen. A cool wind blew through a window above the sink, causing the curtains to flutter aside. That gave the two unsettled people a glimpse of the broken window. 

Dwight walked closer to the window, stopping when a whiff of something disgusting. Dwight was self-sufficient, so it’s safe to say he knows about the smell of dead animals. And that’s what the smell was; something dead and decaying. Dwight wrinkled his small nose and stepped into the small kitchen and walked to the sink. Dwight peered in the sink and stumbled back, landing harshly on his ass. 

“What the hell?!” Dwight spat out. 

Pam scurried over. “What?” She looked down at Dwight with concern. “Wha-“

Pam gagged, stopping her from speaking more. Lucky for her, the stench of rotten flesh overwhelmed her so much she didn't have to look at the lone hand lying on the bottom of the metal sink. She walked backward out of the kitchen, her knit scarf covering her nose. Dwight grabbed onto the counter behind him and heaved his body up with a loud exhale. Pam watched with wide eyes as Dwight walked back over to the sink with a hand pinching his nose. He looked back down into the sink, double checking to make certain he wasn’t imagining what he saw. 

Dwight turned away from the sink and walked straight over to Jim. Pam gingerly followed, slightly afraid of what Dwight would do. This was Dwight they were talking about. It would be stupid to not worry. Dwight knelt in front of Jim, who was curled in on himself. Dwight took his partners hands in his own and squeezed gently, letting the other know he was there. 

“Jim,” Dwight said quietly. His voice continued, barely more than a whisper. “Is that a real hand in your sink?” 

Pam shook her head and grabbed onto the arm of the other couch, trying to keep her balance. What was Dwight talking about? A severed hand? 

She and Dwight both held their breaths as Jim stared blankly at Dwight’s chest. Slowly, he nodded. Pam knees collapsed, and she fell to the floor, a dainty hand covering her mouth. Dwight gripped Jim’s hands tightly and rested his forehead on Jim’s left knee. Dwight didn’t know how to proceed. It’s not everyday you are in a situation such as this. 

He pulled his forehead off Jim’s knee with a sigh. “Okay,” Dwight said. “How did that happen?” 

“It,” Jim shuddered out, his voice scratchy and raw. “It was an a-accident.” 

Dwight nodded and stared up into Jim’s frightened eyes. He felt his heart twist at the look in Jim’s eyes. Dwight suppressed the urge to shake Jim’s shoulders. Instead, he got off the floor and sat beside the shaken man, wrapping an arm around his curved shoulders comfortingly. 

“Where is Mark?” Dwight asked tentatively. 

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat. “Gone. For now.” 

“For now.” Dwight muttered. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Is he coming back soon?” 

A shiver shook Jim’s worn out body. “Don’t know.” 

Pam rested her back against the couch. Her body felt unusually heavy. It was like her bones were made of lead. Pam panted and closed her eyes, conjuring an image of something happy with the intention of take her mind off the random hand lying in the kitchen sink. 

The apartment held a deafening silence. The wove a disconcerting vibe throughout the people of the room. It really was unnerving being in that room, Pam realized. She figured the upstairs would hold more disturbing scenes the receptionist did not want to see with her own two eyes. 

Dwight hugged his lover, feeling the shudders rack through the incoherent man’s body. “Jim, have you drunk any water recently?” Dwight studied Jim’s sunken and hollow face. “It is important to stay hydrated.” 

Jim shook his head. Dwight huffed but held his tongue, knowing now was most certainly not the time to be drilling Jim about the importance of staying properly hydrated. Instead, he got up reluctantly and fetched a bottle of water from the fridge. He skirted the sink with intent, vowing to get the police involved as soon as Jim told him what had happened.

Dwight watched as Jim failed to open the cap of the bottle. He took it from Jim’s large hands and twisted it open, breaking the seal. Dwight handed the now opened bottle to Jim. He slowly took a sip, a bit of water running down the side of his mouth. Dwight used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away. 

“Dwight,” Jim croaked. “He knows.”

Dwight was puzzled. “Who is he? And what is it that he knows?” Dwight gasped. “Oh, gods. Jim, who did you piss off?” 

Pam rolled her eyes. Dwight always assumed Jim was causing a ruckus and getting into trouble. But Pam knew for a fact he did nothing of the sort. Her best friend was the type to stay home and fanboy over basketball with Chinese takeout. 

Jim sighed. He handed the plastic bottle back to Dwight, who screwed the cap back on before setting it on the floor near his feet. 

“Mark.” Jim paused. Pam and Dwight’s hearts thudded loudly in the silence. They wished Jim would spit it out already. But they understood that he was frazzled. 

“Mark knows about us.” Jim clarified. Dwight felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Apparently he doesn’t like me being a faggot.” Jim snorted humorously even though there was absolutely nothing funny about what he said. 

“You’re serious?” Dwight tugged at his hair. “He did this?” 

“Not just him,” Jim stated. Pam’s eyes watered as she took in the mess of Jim. His eyes were filling with angry tears. “A lot of people find me disgusting,” He chuckled darkly. 

Dwight damn hear ripped his scalp off. It was his fault. His fault! He had been so careless and kissed Jim in front of that fucking asshole. Now, thanks to the braggart mind of his, Dwight had gotten Jim into so much painful danger. 

Suddenly unable to suppress the guilt and anguish, the two of them broke.


	8. Evening Unraveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The police show up to investigate and more of the weekend's events unravel.

After what felt like hours, Dwight opened his bloodshot eyes and blew his nose in a tissue Pam silently handed him. His gut still twisted horribly at what he had caused. Dwight gulped down the lump rising in his throat and flipped his phone open. He dialed the sheriff’s station and rubbed Jim’s back while he cried silently, minus the little sniffles. 

“Lackawanna County Sheriff’s office. How can I-“

“Jinn, it’s me, Dwight.” 

“Oh, goody,” Jinn drawled sarcastically. “Mr. Schrute, I thought I’ve told you this before, but you aren’t allowed to call unless it’s an emergency. You hold the lines up for people who are actually in trouble.”

Dwight huffed. “This isn’t another beet thief, this is serious.” Dwight could practically see Jinn rolling their eyes. “My boyfriend has been a victim of a hate crime!”

Jinn took their feet of their desk and sat up straight. “Say what?” Jinn scrunched their face. "Are you joking?" 

“Do I sound like I’m joking?!” Dwight yelled hysterically. 

Pam eased the flip phone from Dwight’s hand and held it up to her ear. “Uh, um, hi. I-I’m Pam. Me and Dwight are at Jim’s -Dwight’s boyfriend- apartment. J-Jim is beaten up a-and the place is a disaster.” Pam stuttered weakly. 

Jinn scratched their temple. “What is your relation to Jim, Mx. Pam?” 

“I-I’m his friend. We work together,” she said quietly.

“Alright then. Could you give me the apartment address? I’ll be sending two people over to investigate.” 

Pam gave them the address and hung up the phone after affirmation from Jinn that some police would be arriving shortly. She gave Dwight his phone back and sat beside Jim. She comforted him the best she could, but Jim’s silence wasn’t exactly helping her. Dwight continued to pace back and forth, tugging at his middle-parted hair and muttering under his breath every so often. A quarter of an hour slowly ticked by and after what felt like the longest minutes of Pam’s life (which was saying something, considering how many uncomfortable meetings she had to sit in with Michael) a few, loud knocks sounded into the living room.

Dwight jumped at the sudden noise. He blew out a long breath and rested a hand over his quickly beating heart. He straightened his back, ignoring the pounding muscle in his chest, and opened the door. “Hello, officers,” He greeted. 

A tall, squared bodied Sheriff with graying hair nodded his head once in greeting. “Dwight.” 

The leaner, more toned male standing beside the Sheriff tipped his hat, keeping his thin lips sealed. The ruffled man stood to the side, letting the two law enforcers into Jim’s apartment. The older man, Sheriff Danes, cleared his throat and surveyed the dim room and shivered at the unsettling atmosphere. His deputy stood beside him with his arms held behind his back. 

Danes pulled out a notepad and pen from his jacket pocket. “Oookay, what’s the problem here?” 

Pam patted Jim’s shoulder comfortingly. Dwight knelt beside him and spoke lowly to his boyfriend. “Jim are you okay to explaining this?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah.” Dwight doubted this because of Jim’s voice crack. 

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and looked up to the unfamiliar men. Jim started by explaining he and Dwight relationship together and how his roommate, Mark, had found out and disliked their being together. Jim paused and rubbed his forehead. Everyone gave him a minute to collect himself. And Jim appreciated that patience because it was hard to relive those frightening experiences. 

Jim faced the Sheriff whose pen was ready to scrawl more details. “When I came back Saturday morning, around 10, my roommate was no where to be seen. I went upstairs to look for him but instead of finding him, I found my bedroom had been destroyed.” Everyone nodded, raptured in Jim’s recounting of the event. “My stuff had been thrown out the window and everything had been searched and overturned, minus my bed.” Jim forced a small laugh at the end. 

Danes mentioned to his deputy, Lownel, that he should check the bedroom after Jim was finished speaking. 

“I heard the front door slam and deep voices coming from downstairs,” Jim continued. “I went downstairs to try and figure out what the hell had happened to my room and before I could ask anything, a large man in a white tank top pointed at me and yelled ‘The queer!’ Obviously, I was shocked. What would someone typically do in that situation?” Jim asked no one in particular. “I just froze on the third to bottom step and stared at Mark, whose knuckles were sewn up, and two other men. These two guys I had never seen before, so I asked, ‘Who are you?’ The guy ignored me and turned his bald head back to the other two and they talked in harsh whispers.”

Jim paused to catch his breath and take a sip of cool water. Dwight squeezed his hand encouragingly. “I… I felt that I shouldn’t be there. My dread hit its peak when the two large men swooped me off the stairs and I was on my stomach before I could even blink. One of the guys sat on my back and pinned me to the hardwood. The other yanked my head up by my hair and shoved my mouth open. He shoved his disgusting boot toe in my mouth despite my resistance. Then Mark decided to talk.”

“Mark spat so many disgusting words at me. He just drug me down and-and belittled me because of my sexuality.” Jim swallowed the lump in his throat. “If that had been all, I think I could’ve gotten over it.” Jim’s hand began to tremble. “But it didn’t stop at slurs and verbal abuse. He had to take it further. Further than anyone ever should just to show how much he hated gays.” 

Jim covered his face with his hands, letting out a loud sob. Dwight bit his index finger to keep himself from crying. He embraced his sobbing boyfriend tight and let him cry and let out all those emotions. The two officers sat on the other couch and waited for Jim’s sobs to change to hiccups and sniffles. They really did feel bad for him; No one deserved that kind of treatment for doing nothing wrong. Dwight took Jim’s face in his hands gently. He rested his forehead against his and kissed him tenderly, not caring about the others in the room. Jim Halpert was more important to him than anything else right now. 

Dwight rested his head against his partners. “Are you okay?” He asked tenderly. 

“N-No.” Jim cracked. “I’m not.” He let out another sob and Dwight shushed him, rubbing his thumbs over the apples of Jim’s cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Jim said between gasps of air. “I-I-I can’t.”

Dwight hugged him, knowing Jim needed reassurance and love. “That’s okay. It’s okay, Jim. We’re all here now. Nothing else is going to happen.” 

“Th-that’s not true,” Jim cried. “Mark is still upstairs!” Jim fisted his hand in Dwight’s mustard colored shirt, holding the man close to him.  
The officers looked at each other with raised eyebrows and confused expressions. 

“Jim is it alright if the guys take a look upstairs and get that bastard out of here?” Dwight smoothed down Jim’s hair, which was sticking up all over the place. 

Jim nodded. “Y-Yeah.” He narrowed his puffy eyes. “Get him the fuck out of here.” 

Dwight looked over at the men in uniform. “You heard him, guys.” 

Dwight said and waived a hand. The two tromped upstairs and stayed up there a couple minutes collecting the asshole named Mark. They drug him down the stairs, not caring his bound body bounced down the stairs harshly. 

“Oh, god!” Pam exclaimed when she saw Mark. The guy looked rough. His right hand was missing from just below his wrist and was covered with a bloody shirt. His ankles and wrists were tied behind his back with thick cable wires that Jim had found in their storage closet. 

Danes stopped in front of the three. “We’re going to take him down to the station for questioning.” He yanked his head towards Mark. “Dwight, take your partner to the station also. We need to figure out exactly what happened to him and why the bastard over there is missing a hand.” 

Dwight nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

The two policemen left with Mark and Jim sighed in relief. Dwight figured it was better not to ask questions and instead eased him off the couch and to the bathroom. After Jim took a piss and washed his grubby hands, Dwight gave him a lingering kiss. “I won’t ever let this happen again.” Dwight stared Jim in the eyes. “I’ll protect you. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in case you're wondering, Jinn is nonbinary. In the following chapter you're going to see more of them. And trust me, they are going to be a fun character.


	9. Trepidation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my laptop is back and running! Anyways, this chapter is sort of slow. Just letting you know~
> 
> -YaoiFanboy39

Two long, grueling hours had passed since Dwight, Jim and Pam had arrived at the police station. Jim had been taken into a room for questioning and Mark was thrown in a cell for the time being. That left Pam and Dwight alone on an uncomfortable metal bench to wait. 

Pam returned from the vending machines to find Dwight sitting with his eyes closed. Pam sighed in relief. He had been pacing anxiously around and biting his fingernails for so long and Pam couldn’t get him to stop, no matter how much she tried. 

Pam sat beside Dwight, placed his Payday and bottle of water between their bodies, and opened her honey bun with frangible fingers. She slowly pulled away the plastic that was on the sticky bun and took a small bite. Dwight let out a long sigh. He stretched his legs out and wiggled his feet, trying to get the blood flowing. He lolled his head onto his left shoulder and watched Pam take a tiny bite out of the honey bun. 

“What if…” Pam trailed off, trying to decide if she really wanted to finish her thought. “What if,” she whispered.

Dwight stared at her. He understood what she was thinking, because he had the exact same thoughts. “I, no, we know Jim.” Pam looked into Dwight’s tired eyes. “He will be fine,” Dwight said. “I’m quite sure of it.” 

And with that, Dwight picked up his candy and took a huge chunk of it in his mouth. He was done talking and Pam sensed that. Pam dropped her head again and the two ate in silence. 

Once more, Dwight began his pacing. Pam just let him be. She was far too lost in her own worried thoughts to try and relax Dwight. Dwight cracked his knuckles and slowed down his steps. The two stayed like that until a door finally opened and an officer stepped out, swinging the door shut behind him. 

Officer Neal walked up to them and placed both hands on her hips. “I hate to say this,” she began, “but it seems we need to keep Mr. Halpert a while longer.” 

Pam and Dwight let out a large breath, afraid of what the officer might have said. What ifs were always a worrisome path to travel down. 

“We need to question the other parties involved with this incident before we can go any further.” Dwight nodded and shook the officer’s hand. “We have to find the other two men and question the man currently in custody before we can let Me. Halpert leave. For now go to Jinn and he will tell you what to do,” she finished with a tight-lipped smile. 

“You mean them,” Dwight corrected. 

Neal pursed her lips and stared up at Dwight. “Just go to Jinn.” 

Dwight rolled his eyes and Pam watched as the officer stomped off. She thought it was quite rude that she didn’t respect Jinn enough to use their correct pronouns. Pam herself didn’t necessarily understand what it meant to be neither male nor female, but she respected the person and their feelings enough to use they/them pronouns. 

“She’s an ass,” Dwight scoffed. He walked down the hall, leaving Pam to scramble and pick up their trash and scurry after him. 

Pam reached Jinn’s desk and saw them and Dwight chatting. They seem to be good friends, Pam mused to herself as she threw the wrappers and empty bottles into the trashcan beside a potted plan. She tentatively walked over and stood beside Dwight. 

“It will probably be a day before they can track down the other two guys,” Jinn said as they tied their dyed light blond hair into a ponytail. 

Dwight nodded. “Let’s hope they haven’t made it to far.”

Jinn nodded in agreement then looked over at Pam and stuck their hand out. “I don’t believe we have met; I’m Jinn.”

Pam let a small smile flit onto her lips and grasped their hand and shook. “I’m Pam. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Jinn’s hazel eyes sparkled as they stood and popped their back. “I’ll call you if anything changes,” Jinn told Dwight.

Dwight nodded curtly. “Thank you.” 

Jinn waved, and they left through the front doors. Dwight slid into his Camaro and cranked it to life. Pam buckled in and rested her head on the plush seat as Dwight pulled out of the parking space. 

Dwight glanced at the digital clock on his dashboard. The green numbers read 8:46. “Do you want to get dinner at the diner a few blocks from here?” 

“Sure,” Pam answered. “A coffee would be nice.” 

Dwight agreed and headed toward the diner. Due to very little traffic, the two reached their destination in a few quick minutes. They sat at a table for two beside the window. Pam ordered them both a cup of steaming, black coffee while Dwight went to the restroom. 

“Sorry,” Dwight cleared his throat and slid back into his chair. “I had to take a dump.”

Pam wrinkled her nose. “I really didn’t need to know.”

Dwight shrugged and flipped open the laminated menu. Pam clasped her hands around her hot mug and sighed. “I don’t get it.” 

Dwight looked up. “Don’t get what?” 

Pam stared into her coffee as she poured a creamer in. She stirred the spoon, the sound of clinking echoed through the nearly empty diner, save for one old man and two employees. 

“Why did this have to happen to Jim? I don’t get it.”

Dwight was silent for a moment. “There are people that hate for no good reason.” Dwight picked at his cuticle. “I don’t get it, either.” 

Pam rested her hand on her forehead and let out another long sigh. Their waitress returned, and Dwight ordered a stack of pancakes and side of bacon. He always had a large appetite regardless of the events that were occurring in his life. The two friends sat and sipped their drinks in silence. Because what more was there to say? 

Dwight gobbled down his food and Pam got a couple refills of coffee. Dwight paid the check, insisting to do so since Pam had bought the snacks earlier, and he drove her home. He put the car in park and stared out the front windshield. 

“You’re going to work tomorrow, right?” Pam asked.

Dwight forced a smirk. “Of course.”

“Alright,” Pam chuckled. “Thank you for the food. And the ride home.”

Dwight nodded. “Sure.” 

Pam said goodnight and got out. She stood on the sidewalk and watched as Dwight’s taillights left from her line of sight. 

\---------

Dwight rolled onto his other side and sighed. He had been lying in bed for what felt like hours and had yet to be able to fall asleep. His gut was a swirling pit of trepidation and his mind a jumble of anxiety and racing thoughts. Dwight yanked his blanket off and padded own the stairs to the kitchen, where he grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water. 

It was just shy of midnight, Dwight realized. If he was going to make it to work, and Schrute planned on doing so, he would need an adequate amount of rest. But he could not sleep, no matter how hard he tried. Dwight paced the large kitchen a couple times before deciding to take himself and his glass out onto the front porch. 

Dwight closed the creaky door as quietly as possible, as to not alert Mose. The chilly night breeze and creak of the rocking chair as he gently swayed back and forth dulled Dwight’s anxiety little by little. Dwight lit up a cigar, letting puffs of smoke out into the clear air settling around Schrute Farms. 

Dwight listened to the sounds of nature and closed his eyes. He pushed his feet on the ground, keeping up a slow yet steady pace, and inhaled another smoke from his cigar.  
I better just take a personal day tomorrow, Dwight figured. And with that resolution, Dwight let himself become one with nature.


	10. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blame could only be his own, is what Dwight thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.8 k words of angst.

Before Dwight realized it, the sun was rising, casting rays of light over the dewy ground. He had dozed on and off during the early hours of morning but had been abruptly awaken by nightmares. Dwight pressed the butt of his most recent cigar into the ashtray and stood, stretching out his stiff limbs. His head thudded uncomfortably due to the many hours outside in thin pajamas and next to no sleep. The farmer wiped his nose with his sleeve and slowly made his way back inside. 

Dwight poured his glass of water (which now had a fly floating in it) into the soil of the basil plant sitting on the broad windowsill. He fried up some sunny side up eggs and slid them onto two plates just as Mose walked into the kitchen. Mose got the beet/orange juice mix from the fridge and poured two glasses. Dwight’s cousin scarfed down his breakfast and scurried out into the fields to tend to the animals and crops. 

Dwight stared at the half-eaten egg, its yolk flowing along the plate. He couldn’t finish his food. The man’s stomach was in more knots than usual and he felt sick. Not the sort of feverish sick, but rather a dreadful, gut churning sick feeling. Dwight rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes and slid his large glasses on. 

The drive to work was fuzzy. Dwight was slightly surprised when he realized he was in the Scranton Business Park parking lot. It was a quarter past eight when Dwight slowly made his way into the office, to be met by Michael eating a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit with no bread. Michael hopped off Jim’s desk and greeted Dwight.

To Michael’s surprise, Dwight merely grunted and dropped his briefcase on the floor beside his desk. In a zombie like state, Dwight walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, as per usual. Michael raised his eyebrows at Dwight, who stared blankly at the brewing pot. Michael noticed his shoulders were slumped and his body appeared worn. His dull eyes stared with no purpose and his middle-parted hair was a mess. 

Michael was concerned, though he would never admit it aloud. Dwight never looked like this; not even when Mose had fallen down the well or was kicked in the back by a horse. Michael leaned his rear against Dwight’s desk, waiting until Dwight filled a mug with hot coffee and made his way to his desk. Dwight let out a large sigh as he plopped down into his office chair, plunking the mug down beside Michael’s leg, which nearly splashed onto him. 

It was a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Michael asked, “Dwight, did something happen to Mose?” 

Dwight wrung his hands together and stared at the wall behind the reception desk. “No,” he croaked. “Mose is fine.” 

Michael opened his mouth to ask something else but stopped short when the door opened. Oscar and Kevin walked in, followed by Phyllis, who’s lipstick was a bit smudged. Probably from making out with Bob Vance, Michael thought to himself. Michael greeted them and watched as they got comfortable in their seats, keeping quiet a moment longer than he was accustomed to. 

“Did something happen to you,” Michael asked Dwight lowly. Phyllis peeked over her shoulder, cautiously noticing Dwight’s sagging posture and black computer screen. “Because you don’t seem like yourself.”

Stanley walked in and grunted, breaking the silence as he fell into his chair heavily, nearly tipping it over. 

“Not necessarily to me but it does affect me,” Dwight finally replied. 

Michael’s face showed his confusion. “What? Dwight, that doesn’t really answer anything.” 

Dwight turned his computer on. He didn’t look Michael in the eye when he said, “It does not concern you.” 

Phyllis sucked in a breath and turned back around. The camerawoman zoomed in on Michael’s face. He stared into the camera, lost for words. Dwight was very off today. He always told Michael his woes, asked or not. “Oh. Okay, then,” Michael said.

Michael walked awkwardly back over to his open office door. He cleared his throat and scratched his forehead, turning back to face Dwight. The regional manager blew out a breath and turned back around, closing his office door behind him. In his typical fashion, Michael closed his blinds and sat himself at his desk, playing with a toy truck. The cameras focused on Michael’s frown through a crack in the side blinds. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most everyone got to their desks before nine. Creed strolled in an hour late and walked to the empty reception desk, picked up a pen, and stuffed it in his pocket. Stanley watched with an eyeroll and a huff before looking at his crossword puzzle. Despite all the mundane things happening around Dwight, he couldn’t calm himself. He stood quickly, before he could second guess himself, and stopped at Meredith’s desk, who looked up at him warily. 

“Meredith, would you care to take a smoke break with me?” 

The red head looked at her antsy coworker, watching dubiously as Dwight’s hands shook against his thighs. She clicked her tongue and nodded, grabbing her purse. “Alright, c’mon.” 

Angela watched like a hawk as Meredith led Dwight out of the office. She waited exactly two minutes before smoothing her skirt down and knocking on Michael’s door. 

“Yeeeeesh?” Her boss called out. 

Angela opened the door and straightened her petite frame. “Did Dwight inform you that he went outside with Meredith?”

“Mm, no.” Michael spun around and looked down at the parking lot, seeing Dwight and Meredith smoking Kools.

“Well,” Angela said haughtily. “I think this might have something to do with Jim not being here.” 

“Huh?” Michael looked at Angela like she had two heads. “How does the two of them having a smoke break have to do with Jim?” 

Angela stared at Michael. She huffed and turned on her heel, pulling the door closed with a snap. Michael turned and looked out his window at the pair before mulling over Angela’s seemingly odd statement. 

What the hell was she talking about? Michael put his hand on his chin, though it did nothing to help him think. Dwight smoking cigarettes (which everyone knew he only smoked cigars with tobacco grown on his farm) and rebuffing his question earlier. Jim not being at work two days in a row and now Pam missing as well… 

Michael gasped. Jim and Pam are probably doing it, Michael thought, and Dwight is upset because he likes Jim, a straight guy who was in love with the curly haired receptionist.  
Michael clapped his hands together, proud of himself for putting two and two together (even though he couldn’t be more wrong). He quickly dialed Jan’s number, excited when Jan answered with a curt, “Yes?” 

“Jaaaaaaannnnnnnnn-ifer,” Michael sang into the receiver. 

“What, Michael,” Jan snapped. 

“Oh, ouch,” Michael laughed. “Why’re you so snappy?” Before Jan could reply, Michael blurted out, “Are you on your period?” 

“NO, Michael!” Jan yelled, trying to compose herself as Michael chortled at himself. 

“Kidding, kidding. Anyways,” Michael continued. “Pamela and Jimbo aren’t here and they didn’t call in. Do you think that they’re, you know-” 

“No, Michael,” Jan repeated once again. “And-and why haven’t they called in?” 

Michael blew his lips. “I dunno. Why do you think I’m calling you?”

Jan groaned. “Michael, these are your employees. Figure out why they aren’t here,” she said and abruptly hung up. 

“Jan?” Michael said to the dead line. “Beh,” he waved his hand and stood and opened the door. “Dwight!” 

There was no Dwight, only his empty desk. “Oh, right,” Michael said to himself. 

While the other salesmen were trying to stifle their laughter, Meredith and Dwight were becoming more relaxed with every intoxicating lungful of smoke. 

“What’s wrong, kid?” Meredith stubbed out her cigarette on the side of the building and pulled another from its pack. 

Dwight sucked in another breath, feeling the smoke burn his throat. The smoke blew out as he spoke, “Relationship…” He shook his head and brought the cigarette to his lips. 

Meredith nodded slowly. “Angela?” 

Dwight scoffed. “No, that’s long over. But,” he let his sentence trail off as he looked down at Meredith, debating whether it was a good idea or not to speak about his homosexual relationship. His brain was too tired to even care at this point. “They got not an accident.” 

“Oh, god,” Meredith said. “Are they okay?” 

Dwight was happy to hear she used they. But unfortunately, that happiness was short lived. The thoughts of what Jim had been through and the fact he was still at the police station, reliving those raw memories time and time again, made Dwight’s heart hurt. “They’re talking to the cops about it now.”

Meredith nearly dropped her cigarette. “The cops?” 

Dwight frowned and stomped out his cigarette. The thought that had been crawling though his brain finally burst through his lips. “And none of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.” 

Meredith didn’t know what the say. She whispered, “Damn,” before warily patting Dwight on the shoulder. Meredith was mostly surprised that Dwight was confiding in her. Hell, he must really be hurting of he came to me, Meredith thought. They were not exactly close. 

“He got hurt because of me,” Dwight felt his eyes start to burn with hot tears but refused to let them fall. “If he didn’t date me, then he wouldn’t gotten hurt.” Dwight felt his bottom lip quiver when Meredith hesitantly wrapped an arm around his shoulders loosely. 

“It’s not your fault,” Meredith told him. “It’s the person who hurt him who is wrong.” 

Dwight’s head was flooding with voices. Dwight brought his hands to his head, knocking Meredith’s arm an inch when he did so. He gripped his hair tightly and tried to wield off the thoughts. “Cigarette,” he whispered. 

Meredith complied and handed him a one she lit, figuring his trembling fingers would have difficulty flicking the lighter. They didn’t speak again until Dwight had sucked the cigarette down to its end. 

“Is it Jim?” Meredith asked, breaking the dead silence. 

Dwight peered into her eyes, too tired to snap at her. Instead, he turned away. “Don’t speak of this,” Dwight said. 

Meredith nodded, even though Dwight was turned away from her. “Okay.”

Dwight walked to the doors of the building, holding the door open, despite his tired muscles aching and screaming at him to collapse. Meredith thought she imagined it when Dwight whispered a barely audible, “Thanks.” 

She stared after him as he shuffled back to the office. Dwight walked in, ignored Michael’s complaints about him taking a half hour break, and grabbed his briefcase. “I’m going home,” he said, effectively shutting Michael Scott up. 

Dwight tossed his briefcase in the passenger side and peeled out of the lot. He drove down the block and pulled over to the side of the road. Dwight cut the engine and rested his pulsing head on the steering wheel. 

Dwight let out a sob. Ugly, hot tears flowed down his face and mixed with snot as his emotions broke free from their crumbling cell. He banged his fist on the dashboard over and over, feeling nothing in his hand. Dwight didn’t feel anything besides the overwhelming hatred for himself. 

The blame for all this could only be his own.


	11. Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight's depressed thoughts lead him to getting blackout drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I remember correctly, Pam said she was a Presbyterian, so that's why she prayed in this chapter. I don't mean to offend anyone's religious belief, or lack of. If I do, please let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> -YaoiFanboy39

Pam frowned when Dwight didn’t show up a second day in a row. Phyllis filled her in about the day he ignored Michael and left, not to be seen since then. Pam sighed as Dwight’s cell went to voicemail. She decided not to leave a message and decided to visit him that evening after work. 

Michael wondered out of his office and stopped at Pam’s desk. “Did you get through to him?”

Pam shook her head. 

“Damn it,” Michael grunted. “I’ll try calling him from my cell,” he said and walked back to his office, snapping the door shut. 

Pam figured Dwight wouldn’t pick up and Michael’s expression proved her theory right. But Michael continued to call over and over. How childish, Pam thought as Michael continued to redial Dwight's number over and over. 

Dwight groaned as his cell phone continued ringing. He buried deeper in his covers and put a pillow over his head. After a couple more rings, it stopped. Then started again. He growled and rolled on his side, feeling around blindly for his phone. He squinted at the screen and shut off his phone when he realized it was just Michael calling him once again. Michael had been trying to get in contact with Dwight since he left the office abruptly three days ago but had yet to do so. 

Dwight sniffled and buried back in his blankets. He was far too depressed to care about work or the farm, leaving all farm related matters to Mose. The food and water Mose left him sat mostly untouched by his bed. 

It was midday and Mose was out tending the fields, begrudgingly leaving Dwight alone in the farmhouse. Dwight tossed around, suddenly feeling restless. He trudged downstairs, nearly falling due to his lack of nutrients. The man’s thoughts were cursing him so intensely that Dwight nearly broke the neck of the glass bottle getting the cap off. He gulped down a Lionshead beer, trying to drown his worries and self-hate. 

The caps popped off bottles in a flurry. Alcohol was downed as if it were a saving grace. Upsetting thoughts faded, just like his conscious thoughts. 

Mose came in half past one to check up on his cousin, gasping when he found Dwight passed out on the main room floor, right in front of the couch. Mose hurried over and rolled him to his side, not wanting the passed-out drunk man to choke on his own tongue or vomit (if he puked soon). Mose patted his relative’s cheek and covered him with a blanket. He tiptoed into the kitchen and filled a glass with tap water and sat it down a foot away from Dwight’s head, frowning worriedly at the lump that was Dwight. 

`````````

Dwight woke with a start as the doorbell buzzed. He groaned and pressed a clammy hand to his forehead. The doorbell buzzed again a minute later. Dwight sat up and nearly fell back over. He rubbed circles on his temples, trying to relax the banging pain in his brains. His twisting stomach gave a lurch and bile rose in his throat. Dwight jumped up -to try and rush to the sink- but due to his lost sense of balance, he fell forward on his hands and knees and threw his guts up. 

Oh, gross, Dwight thought. He moved his hands, trying to avoid the puke. He rocked unsteadily on his knees and gripped onto the couch for support as he pulled himself up. He cursed as the doorbell buzzed once more. 

Dwight figured the person wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, so he leaned onto the wall for support as he inched his way to the front door. If it’s Mose, I’ll kill him, Dwight thought angrily. 

He opened the door a crack, surprised to see Pam standing on his front porch. “Pam?” She gave a tiny smile. “What’re you doing here?” He rasped, his throat burning from lack of water and puking. 

“Um, you weren’t answering your phone,” she said, making it sound like a question. 

Dwight opened the door more and waved her to follow, to which she complied. Dwight walked a bit unsteadily to the kitchen, sneakily bypassing the main room. Dwight collapsed on a barstool, rested his back against the bar, his elbow almost knocking over a bowl of fruit.

Dwight turned to Pam and asked, “Can you get me some water?” 

Pam nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Not that she really wanted to get him water; honestly, she was just happy Dwight wasn’t dead.

She pulled open cabinets blindly until Dwight pointed out the correct one. She nabbed a tall glass and filled it with clear water from the glass pitcher (assuming it was from his well) in the refrigerator. Pam handed him the glass, watching as he took a couple long gulps before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Pam stood awkwardly, her cheeks tinging pink in embarrassment when her stomach grumbled loudly. Dwight fumbled over his shoulder and wrapped his fingers around an apple, tossing it to Pam. She caught it, surprising them both slightly. Dwight gave her a nod of approval and Pam smiled proudly. 

After her apple was rinsed and munched upon, Dwight decided to speak up. “When did you get back to work?” 

Pam turned to look at him, because now they were both seated at the bar. “I got back the day after you mysteriously disappeared,” Pam joked. 

Dwight laughed dryly and forcefully. Pam noticed but didn’t ask, not wanting to push him. Dwight stood and grabbed a large amount of paper towels, walking down the hallway into the main room without explanation. Pam finished her apple off and tossed the core into the compost bin under the sink, peeking down the short hall to see Dwight’s back. He was wiping something off the floor, she noticed. 

Dwight grunted as he stood from his squatting position and threw the dirty towels into a plastic grocery bag. He wiped the wood floor with a Clorox wipe, throwing them in said grocery bag before tossing the whole bag in the kitchen garbage. He ignored Pam’s questioning gaze and focused on cleaning his hands and sipping his water. 

“Do you know when we can see Jim?” Pam asked tentatively.

“Jinn will call us when he’s done with questioning,” Dwight replied. 

“How much longer will it take? It’s already been four days!” 

Dwight turned away from her stressed face and grabbed his small watering pot, dripping its contents into his herb plants on the windowsill. “They have to find everyone involved and get them to comply in answering truthfully, which isn’t always easy,” Dwight explained. “If Jim is found to be in the wrong for any reason, he’ll have to go to trial, as will the others involved.” 

“I hope we can see him soon,” Pam whispered. 

Dwight didn’t say anything, but Pam knew he agreed with her wholeheartedly. They just wanted to see Jim again, happy and safe. But Pam knew that happy was wishful thinking. Regardless, she wanted to see be with her best friend again and see him together with his boyfriend, Dwight, who was looking as worn as an old t-shirt. 

Please, God, Pam prayed, please let Jim be okay. 

When the landline phone rung in the kitchen, Dwight nearly fell off his stool. He snatched it off the wall and answered hastily. By some sort of magic, or god Dwight didn’t believe in, Jinn had called, telling Dwight that he should come pick Jim up from the station. 

Dwight agreed and quickly relayed the great news to Pam. Pam embraced Dwight as he began crying tears of happiness and relief. Finally, finally, they could be with Jim Halpert.


	12. Bad and Ugly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The full story of what happened to Jim is finally recounted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CONTAINS DISTURBING GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, HOMOPHOBIA, AND RAPE. VIEWER/READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Dwight was out of the car and running before he had even turned the engine off. Pam’s shaky hand pulled the key from the ignition, silencing the beeping. She clambered out and slammed the passenger door shut, hurrying toward the door of the police station while wrestling with her scarf. She halted and turned back around, going over to Dwight’s Camaro and closing his door, locking the car up, and hurrying along the asphalt. Once she got inside, she saw Dwight hugging Jim with all his might. 

Jim was crying into Dwight’s broad shoulder, fingers twisted in the back of the man's usual yellow button up. Dwight was murmuring heartfelt things in Jim’s ear, but the other man didn’t notice; He was too busy focusing on his lover’s arms encasing him for the first time in what felt like months. Jim cried harder and ran his hands over Dwight, making sure it was really him. He sniffled and rested his weight into the farmer, who swayed at the body leaning into him, and left his trust and self in Dwight. He was here with him once again. 

Pam watched the loving scene unfold with Jinn, who sidled up beside her. Pam leapt at the unexpected presence beside her and lost her balance. Jinn skillfully caught her by the elbow and kept her upright, a small smile on their face. “Careful now,” Jinn said in a teasing tone. 

Pam’s face heated with embarrassment. She wiped the tears from her eyes, decidedly fine with just watching the happy couple reunite. Even though she was extremely glad to see Jim again, she didn’t want to interrupt the two. 

“I’m glad Mr. Halpert has Dwight on his side,” Jinn said softly. Pam craned her head up to look at their face. “He has been through a lot these past four- no five days.” Jinn tapped their chin with their index finger. “It’s good he has Dwight because Dwight is very caring and protective of his lover.” 

Pam nodded. Jinn was right, she decided. Dwight had taken exceptional care of Angela and her honor when they were dating, and that steadfast care had held true when he started dating Jim. Pam had seen firsthand how Jim’s pain affected Dwight to the point of depression. 

“Honestly, I cannot believe what happened to Mr. Halpert,” Jinn said solemnly. “It is just horrific what those bastards did to him.” 

“I-I guess,” Pam said and glanced up into Jinn’s green eyes. “But I still don’t know the full story.” 

Jinn looked down at her, their face a blank mask behind the thick layer of foundation. They crossed their toned arms and looked back over to the weeping couple. “Well, you know that Jim came back to a wrecked apartment.” 

Pam nodded. 

“And that three men confronted him angrily, spitting slurs at him.” 

Pam nodded again, painfully. 

Jinn’s usual blank face twisted in empathy. “After two men, Tom Junre and Lukas Hann, pinned him to the floor, Mark continuously degraded Halpert because of his sexuality. But it didn’t stop at verbal abuse. They had to take it to a physical level. Apparently, the three said that they were teaching Jim that what he was doing is wrong.” 

Jinn shook their head and rested a large hand on Pam’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze in reassurance. “They, dear god, they did some disturbing things,” Jinn said, voice steady despite the news they were relaying. “They tied him up and locked him in a closet beneath the stairs, claiming they were hiding him where his gayness should also hide.” 

The idea of Jim’s large body being cramped in the tiny storage closet, barely big enough to fit a broom and mop, made Pam’s stomach clench. “That’s horrible,” she whispered.

“Yes, it is,” Jinn agreed. “The fact they locked him in there for an estimated twelve hours makes it even worse.” 

Pam looked at Jinn, her mouth agape in shock. “You’re kidding,” she exclaimed lowly. 

Jinn shook their head, mouth and brow drawn tight. “Sadly, no. I am not. I wish I was making up the rest of what happened, but I am not. I think it’s best if we sit down,” Jinn said and gestured to a bench behind them, close to the snack room door. 

Jinn chomped their gum louder than necessary. Pam did not say anything about how annoying it was, knowing better than to do that. 

“After they removed Jim from the cramped closet, they drug him by his bound ankles into the main room and beat him senseless.” Jinn rubbed their palms on their jean clad knees and continued speaking. “Somehow they had gotten a prostitute to come over and tried to force Jim to have intercourse with her. As one would assume, he refused, but his tied wrists and ankles along with Junre and Hann holding him down, he could not move. Mark was pissed that Jim refused to having intercourse with the woman and decided that he would make Jim.” 

“Wait, wait,” Pam stuttered out. “Shouldn’t Dwight be the first to know this?” 

Jinn was taken aback by her thought. “I am certain Jim is telling him now or anytime soon,” Jinn said. “Mr. Halpert gave me permission to tell you, saying that he wanted you to know, but he insisted on telling his partner himself.” 

Pam was silent and still for a good long while, letting the two hear the low voices of Jim and Dwight drift incomprehensively into their ears along with pained sobs. “But... Jim is bisexual,” Pam said. 

Jinn raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. “I do not think that matters in this situation. Forced sex is not enjoyable, regardless of gender.” 

“No, no, I know that!” Pam said defensively. “It’s just that Jim is already attracted to females, and I was trying to figure out if the others knew that before they did… that.” 

“I do not know, Ms. Pam, but it seemed they do not care. Any sort of queerness is disturbing to them.” 

Pam nodded slowly. “Okay, you can continue now. I think I’m ready to hear.” 

“No one is ever ready to hear such a thing about someone they care for,” Jinn said wisely. “But it is good you know so you can better support him in the present and future. In any case, it’s terrible what they did to the innocent Mr. Halpert.” 

The word ‘innocent’ had Pam’s eyes widening. “B-but didn’t he cut Mark’s hand off?” 

Jinn hummed and smacked their gum. “Not precisely. Let me continue and I will get there.” 

“Right, sorry.” 

Jinn dismissed her unnecessary apology and blew a bubble, popping the minty gum. “Mark told the prostitute to ‘stick it in’ her, so she did. And do not worry, we have her, the rapist, in a cell with cuffs,” Jinn said in a way they hoped was reassuring. “After she was done raping Jim, Mark paid her and sent her away, now angrier because Jim was crying and, well, limp. Mark decided Jim needed more humiliation to get rid of his ‘cursed gayness’.”

Jinn spit their gum into a wrapper for a new piece and popped the fresh piece into their mouth. “They drug him outside and stripped him nude, yelling and making a show of ‘beating the faggot’ as they said. A homophobic neighbor opened his window and yelled to ‘make it a fair fight for the queer’ while continuing to watch. They untied Jim’s wrists and ankles and he tried to flee, but Hann stopped him, easily throwing the bruised Jim to the ground. They made Jim’s weary self square up against three men and fight.” 

“The fight was brutal. Jim stood no chance in his current state and was easily taken down, made into a puppet for their sick enjoyment. Jim did manage to land a kick in Junre’s crotch, who returned it and slammed Jim’s head through the kitchen window. Jim was lucky enough not to have glass stuck in his skull, but we are quite sure he had a concussion that was, quite obviously, left untreated.”

“After Jim passed out from exhaustion and the blow to the head, they drug him back inside carelessly. Disturbingly enough, the three were not done. They figured Jim needed to lose the hand that he used for gay matters.” Jinn grit their teeth and shook their head. “Their brains were -and still are- grossly mistaken in their thought processes.” 

“Turns out the three were not on drugs or drunk when they did all this, much to the surprise of the investigators,” Jinn continued. “They did all this, and more, in pure consciousness. Everything they did was pure evil, no way around it.” 

“Anyway, the three assholes decided to set up a circular saw in the kitchen area, saying they ‘didn’t want to clean up the blood splatter from the carpet. That tile would be easier to clean.’ Which, yes, they are technically right,” Jinn said rationally while Pam tried not to throw up. “Once Jim came to consciousness, he realized he was lying on the cold tile floor, staring up at a flat table, upon which sat the saw. Jim said he shut his eyes, trying to pretend he was still unconscious while he thought of what to do.” 

“That was a smart thing to do on his part,” Jinn said earnestly. “After he gathered his thoughts, even though his head was killing him, he continued to lie there, awaiting the impending doom to befall on him. After a little while, Jim said Mark came over and kicked him in the stomach, and that broke his façade. They hauled Jim off the floor and Jim pretended he couldn’t stand on his own. They thought ‘since he can’t stand by himself, why do we need to tie him up?’ so they did not.” 

“Junre held Jim upright and in place, because he was the largest of the three. Hann was directed to operate the saw, because he was a construction worker, and Mark was going to hold Jim’s hand in place, so they could get a precise cut. The circular saw they used would not have been able to cut through his radius and ulna, so they decided their best bet would be to cut the hand off between the two large bones in the forearm and the hand bones. Mark directed Hann not to stop cutting, ‘regardless of the screams coming from the faggot’,” Jinn said using air quotes and rolled their emerald eyes.

“Hann did as he directed. Now, before I continue, I feel it is necessary to say that Hann was blind in his right eye, therefore he could not see Mark -who was on his right- very well. Hann started the saw and something in Jim snapped as he saw the rotating circular blade inching down over his dominant hand. Jim said instinct took over as he quickly flipped his pinned hand over, grabbing Mark’s fingers and yanked forward, before the other man could even react. Mark screamed as the saw spun though the layers of skin atop his hand. Hann didn’t stop, assuming it was just Jim screaming in agony and Mark yelling maniacally.” 

“Mark tried fervently to pull his hand back, but Jim held steady on his fingers, gripping hard enough to break one. Junre realized what was happening and lunged forward, trying to stop Jim. Jim threw a fist into Junre’s jaw, knocking him backward, and hitting him in the temple with his elbow, the way he said Dwight had taught him, and effectively knocked the man unconscious. Hann continued pressing the saw down through Mark’s hand, stopping at nothing, doing just as he was supposedly told. Now with two free hands, Jim held Mark’s fingers in a vicelike grip, but Mark continued to pull back slightly, making the saw cut through the flesh wider than necessary. The blade made a trench of cut and bloody flesh halfway though the depth of his hand.” 

Jinn silently slid the small plastic garbage can to Pam’s feet, figuring that her swirling stomach would give way sometime soon. Jinn knew that they did not spare any graphic details when telling a story, and that had made a very large amount of people hurl. This was their job: informing close friends, family, and lovers of what had happened to the person of interest. Jinn never believed in deviating from the truth, even if it meant sparing a few gory details; They felt the person or people close to the hurt one deserved to know exactly what happened, with the attacked person’s consent of course. 

“The saw cut a large artery, sending a spray of blood into the three standing men’s faces. Hann jerked as the blood hit his face, causing the blade to lean more sideways, cutting under the hand bones and to the flesh of Mark’s palm. A hanging flap of Mark’s palm was left once the circular blade cut through the flesh, tendons, veins, and arteries. The saw was turned off and drawn upward, leaving the bloody aftermath behind.” Jinn stopped their retelling of the disturbing story when Pam grabbed the trash can by her feet and heaved up the contents of her stomach. 

Jinn held Pam’s hair back, preventing any chunk of vomit that would otherwise collect in her pretty brown curls. They refrained from continuing the story for now, figuring Pam’s stomach would not be able to handle any more graphic recounts. 

“What happened next?” Dwight asked Jim while rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

“Well, I-I didn’t know what to do,” Jim said. “Mark fell back onto the floor, passed out from shock and blood loss, leaving me to stand their gripping his now detached hand while Lukas stared at the tangled mess of phalanges and blood on the wood table. It was about this time Tom roused himself from his unconscious state. He stood and reared back to hit me, so I threw Mark’s severed hand at his face like a baseball. Tom watched the hand slide off his face and bounce off his beer belly and flop on the floor like a dead fish.” 

Dwight was stunned. “Holy shit,” he said while peering into Jim’s bloodshot eyes. 

“Yeah, it was fucking gross,” Jim agreed. “But at the time I was focused on doing what I had to do to get the two away from me, not really thinking of how nasty the severed hand was. Tom and Lukas both gasped as I picked the hand leaking blood off the floor again and threw it at Lukas this time. The two of them fled, covered in Mark’s blood, leaving me to deal with the messed-up shit that had just happened.”

Jim shuddered and pulled Dwight into another hug, glad that a familiar body heat was surrounding him. “What did you do next?” Dwight asked, his breath fanning over the shell of Jim’s ear. 

“I did whatever I could rationalize at the moment,” Jim replied. “I moved the saw and table outside and tied up Mark, so he couldn’t get away while I called the cops. But somewhere along the way, I kind of… lost it. I can’t exactly remember what the hell I did from that Saturday night to Monday afternoon, when you and Pam came to see me.” 

“Wow,” Dwight breathed. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. I am so damn sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Jim said, trying to sound strong despite his wobbling voice. “Don’t be,” he repeated. “Because it-it’s not your fault.” 

“But it is my fault.” 

Jim pulled back and stared at Dwight. “What? What do you mean it’s your fault?” 

“I-I… it just is,” Dwight shook his head dismissively. “If I hadn’t of kissed you at your apartment on Saturday, Mark would have never known.” 

“Dwight, no.” Jim grabbed both of his shoulders tightly. “It is not your fault. Mark just hates queer people. It’s his and Tom and Lukas’s fault, not yours. Okay?” 

Dwight didn’t agree verbally or physically. He just stared at his feet. Jim ran his hands up from Dwight’s shoulders to his cheek’s, tilting his head up and pressing his lips against his. Jim pulled his lips off Dwight’s unresponsive ones and rested their foreheads together. “Okay?” Jim asked again, hoping for a positive response. 

“Jim,” Dwight sighed and looked into Jim’s eyes, his eyes lost. “How the hell are you so calm?” 

Jim couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know, Dwight. I really don’t.” 

Dwight let out a light laugh and snaked his hands around Jim’s waist, pulling him closer. He leaned forward ever so slightly and reconnected their lips, not caring that his lips and breath stunk of alcohol and tobacco, and neither did Jim. They just enjoyed the closeness and realness of their other half.


	13. Ms. Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is anything a mystery, or is it all coincidence?

Jim and Dwight sat on Dwight’s bed, playing rummy. They did not feel up to talking, which was understandable. They just wanted to feel the warmth and presence of their boyfriend near them. Jim and Dwight had gotten back from the police station hours ago and had been playing different card games since. 

The hand carved clock on Dwight’s bedroom wall beside a Queen poster rung out since it was the beginning of a new hour, eleven pm. Dwight set down his cards and stretched his arms above his head. “I’m thirsty. You?” 

Jim shook his head. Dwight frowned and said, “You need to stay hydrated. I’m going to get you a glass of water anyway.” 

Jim felt his heart flutter at Dwight’s concern for him. “Okay,” he whispered. 

Dwight kissed Jim on the forehead and made his way down stairs, nearly tripping over a random tabby cat in the hallway. He just figured Mose let a barn cat inside and waved a hand for no reason, decided to just let it be. The cat curiously followed Dwight into the kitchen, its wide eyes peering up at him as he poured a glass of water for Jim. Dwight popped the cap off a cold beer and tossed it across the tile floor. The cat scrabbled off after it, pawing and sniffing at the cap. 

Dwight didn’t want Jim to see him drinking so much, because he already had two bottles earlier, and gulped it down. The brown glass clanked against the others as he set it in the recycle basket underneath his sink. The cat hurried back over to him and put its paws on his leg, stretching upward and begging for a head scratch. Dwight obliged the tabby, whose eyes closed halfway in contentment. 

Dwight was never very fond of sitting around playing with cats, but this cat had an immediate pull on his heartstrings. Maybe it was too much alcohol, but Dwight felt like crying when the cat rolled on its back purring, exposing its soft belly for a rub. He knelt and rubbed its stomach, a small smile creeping onto his face. He decided to take the cat upstairs and let Jim pet it, hoping it would raise his boyfriend's fallen spirits, too. 

Dwight settled the surprisingly content cat in his arm like a baby and picked up Jim’s water glass with the other. The ball of fluff rubbed its head against Dwight’s chest as he walked up the creaky stairs, giving Jim the tale-tale signal that he was making his way up. Jim looked at the tabby cat in Dwight’s grasp, slightly confused. He knew Dwight did not have cats inside and silently asked Dwight with his raised eyebrow. 

“I found this cat downstairs,” Dwight said, his voice rough. He gave Jim his water glass, giving a small nod when he took a sip. “I don’t know why its inside, so I just assumed Mose let it in.” 

Jim nodded in agreement. “Probably.” He set his glass down on a bedside table and held his hands out. “Can I hold the cat?” 

“Why not?” Dwight grunted as he shifted onto the bed and handed the cat over into Jim’s waiting arms. 

Jim cooed as the kitty mewed and rubbed against him, getting acquainted with the new human. “Is it a male or female cat?” He asked Dwight.

Dwight lifted the cats back leg and looked. “Female,” he said. He gave the cat a scratch at the base of its tail. “You want to name her?” 

That sentence also had Jim’s head cocked to the side. “I thought you didn’t name animals, though?” 

“I don’t give a name to animals I eat,” Dwight said. 

Jim stuck his lower lip out a centimeter and nodded. “I’ll think of a name,” he said through a yawn. “Maybe it’ll come to me through a dream.” 

Dwight huffed a laugh. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Dwight went to the bathroom before coming back to his bedroom and flicking off the overhead light, leaving only the two lamps on either side of the bed to light the room in a low, pleasant yellow hue. They snuggled under the covers, cat included, and Dwight flicked the lamp off on his side of the bed. 

“Wanna leave that one on?” Dwight asked Jim. 

“Yeah. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine,” Dwight yawned loudly, fingers running over the cat’s fur. 

They laid facing each other, cat between them. They pet the cat, who was getting a lot of attention from the couple, until both men fell into a deep slumber. 

`````````

“Are you going back to the office next week?” Jim asked over a cup of coffee.

It was late Friday morning, two days since Jim got out of that hellhole, and had been staying with his boyfriend since. He did not feel ready to go back to his apartment or, much less, to even be alone.

Dwight sighed and leaned back deeper into the couch, looking at the news anchor on the television. “I should.” 

Jim curled his long legs under him and stared at the news, knowing Dwight only turned it on for him. The farmer didn’t watch the news; he said anything he needs to know, he will figure out in his daily life. The tabby cat, that Jim still hadn’t named, trotted into the main room. She hopped on the couch and laid her small head on a throw pillow. The couch was plenty long for the three of them to get comfortable without smothering one another -- or the cat. 

“Let’s watch something else,” Dwight said once the ten o’clock news had finished. 

“Sure,” Jim agreed easily. He handed the remote to Dwight and stood. “I’m going to refill my mug. You want more?” 

“Mmhm,” Dwight hummed as he flipped through channels. 

Jim grabbed his and Dwight’s mug and refilled them with hot, black coffee. He carefully tiptoed into the main room, careful not to spill a drop of the steaming drink. He handed a mug to Dwight, who had settled on a cheesy sci-fi movie. They watched the movie without clear interest and petted their new cat, which Jim still needed to name. 

Mose moseyed into the farmhouse from the side door, entering the kitchen in search of lunch. He made himself a sandwich and took it to the main room, where he usually ate, thinking of watching wrestling. Mose halted when he saw his cousin and his boyfriend, Jim, sprawled out on the couch, a tabby cat between them. They looked over at the bearded man, giving him a small greeting. 

“Mose, did you let this cat in?” Dwight asked, gesturing to the purring animal who was getting her belly rubbed by Jim. 

Mose shook his head and took a bite from his tall sandwich. 

“Really?’ Dwight asked disbelievingly. “Then how would it have gotten in?” 

Mose just shrugged, earning a sigh from his cousin. 

“Maybe she came in while a door was being opened,” Jim suggested. 

“That’s a possibility,” Dwight murmured. “In any case, we should take her to the vet. You never know if something is wrong with her.” 

Dwight called his usual vet, asking if he had any openings that day. He said that he did at a quarter past noon. Dwight thanked him and hung up, relaying the news to Jim and Mose, who was eating the last bite of his sandwich. Mose nodded thoughtfully before disappearing from the men’s sight and out into the fields, not to be seen again until sundown. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” the vet, Dr. Ross, said. “Ms. Martin takes her cats in here alone. Are you real busy with the farm or something?” 

“Ah, no. Angela and I broke up two months ago,” Dwight said, glancing over at Jim, who was leaning against the wall awkwardly. 

“Oh,” Dr. Ross looked up from his computer where he was analyzing their unnamed cat’s vitals. “I’m sorry that I pried.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Dwight cleared his throat. “I’m with someone else now, and I am very happy with them.” Dwight looked over at Jim and winked. Jim blushed and turned away from Dwight's gaze.

“That’s good,” Dr. Ross said. He stood and walked over to their cat, who was sitting on the small exam table, and looked in her mouth. Dwight ran his hand over her fur reassuringly, hoping she wouldn’t bite his hand like Angela’s cat Trixie did. “Is, uh, is this his cat?” The veterinarian asked, tilting his head toward Jim. 

“It’s both of ours,” Jim said. Dwight gave him a small smile and he reciprocated the action.

“Hm, okay,” Dr. Ross said. He seemed to be a bit nervous when he looked at Jim and asked, “You two are really good friends that live together, I’m assuming, correct?” 

“Nope,” Dwight deadpanned. 

“Wh- Then how do you share a cat?” Dr. Ross asked, flabbergasted. 

“Kind of a long story,” Dwight said vaguely and gestured to the cute tabby. “She showed up in my farmhouse last night and Jim and I immediately loved her.” 

“She’s not one of -or related to- your barn cats,” Dr. Ross said, thoughtfully scratching his chin. “I checked her DNA.” 

“Does she belong to anyone around here?” Jim asked worriedly. 

The vet shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. I even checked to match with all the cats on file in the county. She’s a mystery.” Dr. Ross chuckled and scratched the cat behind her ears. 

Jim’s eyes lit up hopefully, something that Dwight had not seen in a long while. Jim asked, “That means we can keep her, right?” 

“Yep, you sure can,” the vet answered, scrawling something on his clipboard. “Oh, and Dwight, I forgot to ask, can you introduce me to your new lady next time?” 

“No need to do it next time.” Dwight smirked triumphantly and pulled Jim towards him by his elbow. “He’s already here.” 

Dr. Ross’s eyes widened in shock. “But… That’s a man.” 

“I’m well aware,” Dwight replied coolly. Jim swallowed and shifted his feet a bit nervously.

“Dwight, this doesn’t make sense,” Ross said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I-I’ve known you for at least a decade and never once have you mentioned that you liked…” 

Dwight shrugged and slung an arm around Jim’s shoulders. Jim picked up their cat, ready to leave if necessary. Jim knew Dr. Ross was a friend of Dwight’s, had been for nine years, and they hung out a lot on the farm and in the woods. They were good hunting buddies, something that Jim refused to do with his boyfriend despite his numerous counts of pleading.

“We are happy together. If that bothers you, then please refrain from calling my phone,” Dwight said, strict gaze never leaving Dr. Ross’s face. “Otherwise, do call me. Deer season is right around the corner and I would like your sharp eye.”

“I… I don’t know, Dwight,” Ross sighed out. “It makes me uncomfortable that you’re dating a man.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t jump your bones,” Dwight scoffed. “You’re hardly my type. Besides, I’m already in a committed relationship, so you have nothing to worry about.” 

Jim bit his lip, trying to contain his smile from the words 'committed relationship', and looked at the floor as they awaited Ross’s answer. 

Eventually, Ross said, “I’ll think about it, okay?” 

“Sure. Call me when once you’ve processed things.” 

And with that, the couple and their new cat left the veterinarian clinic and got into Dwight’s green pick-up truck. “What is Ross’s first name?” Jima asked curiously. 

“George.” 

“Hm,” Jim mused and thought aloud. “Why don’t you call him that? I mean, you’ve got another friend whose first name is Ross, so I thought it might get confusing.” 

“Well, he hates the name George. His now deceased father had the same name and passed it down to him. Why he doesn’t just legally change his name, I don’t really know. We don’t talk too much about personal things.” 

Jim cooed over the tabby cat, who magically brought his spirits up. He was never much of a cat person, but this cat turned his insides to goo. “You’re a mystery, aren’t you?” Jim said to the cat, who stared up at him. “Little Ms. Mystery.”

“Ms. Mystery?” Dwight questioned. 

“Yeah,” Jim responded, feeling his ears heat up at the slight embarrassment of fawning over a cat. “We don’t know much about her besides the fact that she’s so lovable. Hell, we don’t even know her age.” 

“That’s true,” Dwight responded, steering the truck onto a winding dirt road in the backwoods of Pennsylvania. “She is a mystery.” 

“So, let’s name her Mystery” Jim said, immediately noticing the way the tabby’s ears perked up at the name. “MS. Mystery, or Mystery for short.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Dwight agreed. “Besides, I think I have a collar with the name Mystery on it. It was a misprint from one of Angela’s cats, named My Story. The website she ordered it from figured she meant Mystery since she didn’t capitalize the ‘s’ in Story.” 

“Why would she name her cat My Story?” Jim asked with a snort. 

“Fuck, like I know,” Dwight said with a laugh. “In any case, I guess that’s another thing that works out well for Ms. Mystery.” 

“Coincidentally, yes,” Jim agreed. “It’s almost like she wasn’t a mystery at all.” 

Dwight took his eyes off the road for a second to look at Jim. “What do you mean by that?” 

Jim shrugged. “Well, for one, she came to us at a time when we needed her. Secondly, everything that’s hers you already had. It’s almost like we were just waiting for her to come to us.” 

“Mystery solved,” Dwight mused, but later added, “Somewhat.”


	14. Metora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war between a hollow ribcage and self-deprecating thoughts is a peculiar one.

Dwight straightened his brown tie and looked at himself in the mirror, frowning at his reflection. His irises were circled with heavy darkness, there was dark crescents underneath his sorrowful stare, and his lips were flattened in a straight, chapped line, holding in all his insecurities and doubts. He reached up and ran his fingers through his greasy hair, flattening it to either side of his middle part. It was easy to say he looked rough. 

With a weighted sigh, Dwight left the bathroom, which was quite literally just a bathroom. A tub, which had not been used by Dwight in four days, sat at the back of the small tiled room. The only other things that ornamented the bathroom was an old sink, a mirror above it, and a couple of bins stacked atop each other that held various toiletries and towels and washcloths. 

For whatever reason, the only toilet was outside the farmhouse, at least to most everyone’s knowledge. Dwight and Jim had been using a bathroom Dwight had renovated in the vast expanse of the dank basement and had yet to tell Mose, knowing good and well that he would freak out and smash the toilet. He had a fear of traditional toilets, for whatever reason, and could only use a bucket. The guests always complained about having to use an outhouse when it was snowing and sleeting, but Dwight would shrug and tell them ‘that’s what you signed up for: an authentic beet farm experience’. Secretly, he felt bad about it, but it was best to keep his secret, which helped his rationality and sanity. 

Dwight stopped by his bedroom and poked his head in, seeing if his boyfriend had woken up yet. He was met with the sight of Jim’s unruly hair poking out from underneath the comforter in the dim light. The curtains were drawn, but the lamp on Jim’s side of the bed always stayed on. Dwight couldn’t blame him; With what had happened to him, he understood why he was afraid of the darkness. Hell, it was expected. If he wasn’t afraid of the dark after being locked in a closet, all sense of humility gone, chances are he was not human. 

Dwight picked his black dress shoes off the floor beside the closet and closed the door quietly, hissing through his teeth when it creaked loudly. He padded down the stairs in his socks and stopped in the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and peeling the skin off a banana. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew some energy would do him good. He had managed to shove down some stewed meat and vegetables at the dinner table the previous night with Jim and his cousin, but he couldn’t hold it down. He ended up emptying the contents of his stomach on the lawn at the far end of his hand-built porch while going out for a smoke. 

Dwight’s stomach twisted once he had eaten half the banana and ended up discarding the fruit and throwing the skin in his compost bin, making a note on the fridge that Mose should take the compost bin from inside and put it in the main pile. He poured himself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee and cursed when a drop seared the top of his hand. He set the pot back in its place and sucked on his hand, trying to soothe away the burning sensation. Carefully, he carried his coffee cup over to the windowsill and sat, his mug sat beside his herb plants. 

Dwight was itching for a cigar, so he unlocked the window and pushed it open. The mid-autumn breeze was pleasant; It flowed into the dark and silent kitchen and blew through Dwight’s hair, the leaves of the herbs swayed lightly. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it, blowing a puff of smoke out, giving a huff of laughter when the smoke blew back into his face. Dwight turned his head to the side and shifted his leg under the other and blew his next puff of smoke towards his plants, mildly delighted when the wispy smoke was blown away delicately in the breeze. 

Though he was pleased with the effects of the smoke and the lovely breeze, his chest felt strangely hollow. It was as if he was telling himself he felt the amusement and happiness but the emptiness in his ribcage told him he felt nothing. It was odd. Dwight couldn’t understand why his brain was feeling happy but his chest -his heart- did not feel the same. It was as if his brain was disconnected from his heart, each of them feeling differently, one not feeling at all. 

He felt… numb. 

Dwight frowned and put his cigar out in the ashtray and picked his mug up, taking a sip of his coffee. The burn of his tongue was barely registered, it was more dulled than usual. That was another odd sign. Dwight felt things but just barely. If he was in his usual state of mind, he would be anxiously worrying why he was so damn senseless and numb, but he wasn’t so he just reveled in it, that numbness had edged out his guilt. 

```````

Dwight sat his briefcase down beside his office chair and plopped down in it heavily. Apparently, he was the first one here, besides Michael of course. He was typing away on his keyboard, not noticing anything besides his work. That was one of the things that Dwight knew but never commented on, the fact that Michael worked intensely in the wee hours of the morning but not any other time. It’s almost as if his brain loses focus once the clock hit ten a.m. 

Dwight had decided to get to work half passed seven, knowing his missed days would really rack up calls and emails. Dully he opened his mail folder and flitted though his emails. Once he got his brain to focus, he lost himself in the job of opening, reading, and replying to emails. It was a mundane task, but it was enough to keep Dwight busy enough to forget about his empty shell of a body. 

Dwight ignored the quizzical stares from his coworkers as they flitted into the office. He did not want to talk about why he disappeared on Wednesday or why Jim was still gone. He didn’t want to deal with the questions or the trust they would offer to him. It was too much, too raw, for him to deal with right now. A nagging feeling in his brain told him that if he acknowledged and answered their questions, a floodgate would open, releasing a hurricane of repressed feelings. 

What feelings and thoughts, Dwight wasn’t sure of? His hollow chest seemed like they could do with a good amount of emotion, but his tired mind told him elsewise, to keep it in and stay numb. Dwight bit his lip and tapped his fingers on his desk, knowing it was not a good idea to repress your feelings. It was best to come to terms with them and move on from there. But Dwight decided to oblige the insistent voice and ignore the feelings. 

Instead, he focused on a form of escapism. Work was one, movies were another, and alcohol was the third – the most dangerous of them all. The alcohol was a sweet release from the war between Dwight’s heart and brain. It kicked all other thoughts away and lose himself in another world, a world where this horrid thing had never happened to Jim. A place where he and Jim could live together with no judgmental and homophobic people. 

It wasn’t until Friday morning that someone worked up the courage to ask Dwight what had happened with Jim and him last week. Toby smiled at Pam and hung his jacket up. He scratched the back of his head as he walked over to Dwight, who was staring expressionlessly at his computer screen and typing on his keyboard. 

“Hey, Dwight,” Toby greeted softly. He shifted awkwardly and looked over at Stanley’s desk, knowing the man showed up at eight fifty-nine exactly, meaning he would be there in nine minutes. “How are you?’ 

Dwight’s fingers paused on his keyboard. He turned his head slowly to stare at Toby. He said nothing and turned back to his computer, beginning to type again, ignoring Toby who stood there with a Starbucks cup clutched in his hand. Phyllis shrugged at Toby, who was giving her a confused look. 

Dwight avoided all contact with his coworkers. He put his headphones on at his desk and disappeared to his car at lunch. Pam had greeted him, and he would give her a nod of acknowledgement. Pam knew not to press him for conversation, Jim had texted her and said to give Dwight his space, that he was trying to figure some things out. 

As far as Jim went, he decided to quit Dunder Mifflin. He did not feel ready to leave the house or face anyone. It had taken Jim a bit of time to show Dwight his unnerved and scared side and once he did Dwight had given him a hug and kiss, telling him that things would get better. For the time being, Jim would stay with Dwight and help Mose with some simple tasks, such as watering the plants or brushing the animals. Dwight had assured him that he would go to his old ransacked apartment on Saturday and get the little bit of belongings left in there and bring it back to his farmhouse, where he would live with the Schrute cousins. 

Dwight popped his fingers and stood, sliding past Toby, who was still standing there like a dope, and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face trying to work up the nerve to use his vocal chords and voice Jim’s resignation from the company to Michael. He cleared his throat and patted his face dry with paper towels and slid his glasses on, leaving the restroom with his shoulders rolled back. He ignored the weightlessness of his chest and uncomfortable churn of his gut and knocked on Michael’s door. Once Michael said ‘come in’ Dwight opened the door and walked in, taking a seat. 

“Dwight,” Michael said, shock obvious in his voice, putting the small pack of peanut M&M's on his desk. “How can I you?” 

“Michael, I only want to say this once, so please listen carefully and don’t speak until I’m done, okay?” 

Michael, to his credit, said nothing as Dwight told him that Jim was going through a rough time, not giving specifics, and said that he would have to quit working for now. Dwight made it apparent that Jim wasn’t abandoning Dunder Mifflin or leaving because of Michael, and that he may even come back to work here once things have sobered up. 

Dwight could tell Michael wanted to ask questions, wanting more in-depth answers, but Dwight knew it was an invasion of Jim’s privacy to talk specifics, so that is what Dwight said verbatim. Dwight gave Michael a forced, yet polite, smile and left his office. Of course, the news had spread around the office before lunch and to avoid his growing frustration with his fat chewing coworkers, he turned his music up louder. 

````````

Dwight fumbled around with the knob of the stereo in his Camaro, annoyed that his frequented radio station kept going out. He tuned into another station, hand freezing when he heard the lyrics ‘I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there’. He traveled down the dirt road, one hand on the wheel, listening to the song intently. 

‘Can’t you see that you’re smothering me?’  
‘Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control’  
‘’Cause everything that you thought I would be’  
‘Has fallen apart right in front of you’

And that was all it took for Dwight to start crying. Fat tears escaped the corners of his eyes, making the road in front of him blurry. Once the song had ended, the radio host said it was a song released three days ago by Linkin Park.

Dwight realized that song spoke to him in a way deeper than any friend or coworker surrounding him ever could. The numbness the singer had sung about was so real, showing that he had really experienced that type of empty numbness filling his body. The emotion in the song struck a chord in Dwight’s heart, a pang of sadness ringing through him for a split second. 

Dwight pulled over to the side of the road and turned around, heading back into Scranton, hitting the closest music store he could find. After shuffling through CD’s for at least an hour, Dwight finally found what he was looking for in the unorganized mess of discs. The Linkin Park album, Metora, was purchased and slid into the CD player in his Camaro, letting Dwight enter a whole new form of escape that held meaning and feelings.


	15. Sat Astride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days depression hits harder than others.

Dwight sighed and dropped his briefcase on the couch, making it bounce when he flopped down on the cushion. Mystery ran over and hopped into his lap, begging for a head scratch. Jim poked his head around the corner and smiled at his lover. 

“I’ll have dinner ready soon,” he informed Dwight. 

Dwight nodded in acknowledgement. Jim disappeared down the hall and into the kitchen, where he busied himself in making an orange glaze for the roasted chicken that Mose had killed and butchered earlier that day. Jim chopped some garlic and put in in a bowl with soy sauce, turning to the fridge to get the orange juice. He jumped and screamed when he saw Dwight standing behind him, Mystery in one arm, the other reaching in the fridge for a beer. 

Dwight yanked backward at the scream and smacked the top of his head against the fridge. He cursed and nearly dropped their cat and rubbed the top of his head, staring over at Jim confoundedly. 

“Sorry,” Jim apologized, a hand over his racing heart. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Dwight continued rubbing his head. He knit his eyebrows together and stated, “You’ve never screamed like that before.” Dwight paused and removed his hand from his head and tilted his head, surveying the Jim’s disgruntled state. “Are you… having flashbacks?” 

The question hung heavily in the air. Jim looked at the ground, face contorted apprehensively. He opened his mouth but only a long sigh came out. Jim moved past Dwight and grabbed the orange juice, closing the fridge door. He turned away from the heavy question and poured the juice into a measuring cup. Dwight decided not to pry and instead walked over and pressed a light kiss to Jim’s cheek. 

He got a bottle opener from a cabinet and popped open his Lionshead beer, taking a few long gulps in one go. The oven timer beeped loudly, cutting through the stiff silence, causing the two men to jump slightly. Dwight decided to put Mystery on the ground, not wanting to risk dropping her. The tabby wanted to stay in Dwight’s arm and mewed, circling his feet, trying to get his attention. Dwight leaned down and patted her head and stepped over her, going to the oven to pull out the chicken. 

Once the glaze was poured over the roasted bird, fresh picked mixed vegetables and mashed potatoes were spooned into serving bowls. Mose appeared out of thin air and helped carry the food to the dining table. The mashed potato and mixed vegetables (that Jim had harvested earlier the day prior) bowls were passed around while Dwight cut the chicken and gave everyone a helping. The sound of silverware scraping plates echoed through the prickling silence. 

Jim watched with a frown as Dwight polished off beer after beer. Soon, an entire six-pack was drained and all that was left was a drunk Dwight. 

“Jiiiiiiim,” Dwight called over the table. 

Jim glanced over at him and stacked another dirty dish atop the pile in his arms. “What?” He asked shortly.

Dwight’s eyes were closed, his head resting back on the top of his chair. “C’mere,” he slurred. 

Jim fought the urge to snap at Dwight about getting drunk. He rolled his eyes and leaned closer to Dwight. “What is it?” Jim sighed.

“I want dessert,” Dwight said. He opened his glazed over eyes and pouted. 

“Dwight, you already had dessert. Chocolate pudding, remember?” 

Dwight waved his hand in a way that would be dismissive if he weren’t drunk. Dwight’s fingers whacked his glasses off his face, yet he did not notice. “Not that dessert. I mean sex.”

Jim choked on his own spit and nearly dropped the dishes. “Shh! Mose is around the corner.” 

“Eh, whatever,” Dwight said, dragging out the ‘r’. “I wanna fuck you.” 

Jim felt his ears and cheeks burn red. “Dwight, you’re drunk.”

Dwight scoffed. “So?” 

Jim raised his eyebrows. “So? So, I’m not going to let you fuck me.” 

The words, “It’s been three weeks since we’ve done it,” came out jumbled. 

Jim rolled his eyes. “I know, Dwight.” Jim felt like he had to explain himself even though Dwight was drunk and would not remember a word he said the next sunrise. “I’m sorry, I haven’t felt up to it.” 

“Yeah, I get dat.” Dwight burped and rubbed his forehead. “It’s fine, babe.” 

Jim’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Did Dwight just call me babe? He thought incredulously. For whatever reason, the pet name made his heart flutter. 

Jim smiled softly to himself and set the dishes on the table, cradled Dwight’s tired face between his hands and kissed his forehead. He bent down and grabbed Dwight's glasses off the floor, placing them in the pocket of his sweatpants. He stood and said, “You need to get to bed; You have work tomorrow.” 

Dwight groaned and wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck, keeping the tall man bent at the waist, giving an uncomfortable strain to his lower back. “I don’t wanna.”

Jim patted Dwight’s back. “I know.” 

And suddenly, Dwight was crying into Jim’s shoulder. Jim didn’t know what to do. He bent down to Dwight’s level and Jim let his boyfriend cry into his shirt. 

“Wh- Dwight, what’s wrong?” 

Dwight sniffled and hugged Jim tighter. “I-I-I dunno,” he stuttered out thickly. 

“You don’t know?” Jim asked quietly. “Dwight, even when you’re drunk you don’t cry like this. Besides, when someone is drunk that’s when their true self and emotions show.” 

“You sound so smart,” Dwight slurred, his words muffled by Jim’s shirt. 

“Not really,” Jim chuckled. He continued to rub Dwight’s upper back in what he hoped was a soothing way. 

Dwight continued to cry and sniffle. On and off, he would let out a choked sob that gripped and jerked Jim’s heart. Jim held him, offering his support silently. He did not know exactly what Dwight was going through – probably something with work, he figured. Regardless, Jim would be there for him, just like Dwight had been there for him those three and a half treacherous weeks ago. 

“I’m tired, Jim.” 

“I bet. Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Dwight hummed into his shirt, making Jim shiver. He helped his drunk boyfriend from the chair and let him take slow and wobbly steps through the hallway to the living room where Dwight unraveled his arm from Jim’s waist and collapsed face first on the couch. Mose marked the page in his book and looked over worriedly at his cousin from his position in the recliner. Jim grunted as he rolled Dwight over onto his side. 

He flicked Dwight’s nose, but the man didn’t flinch, thus Jim deduced Dwight had passed out. He stood from his squatted position and walked back into the dining room, grabbing the dishes that were abandoned close to half an hour ago, and placing them in the sink to soak. 

```````

“Jim!” 

Michael’s delighted voice rang through the receiver into Jim’s ear. Jim laughed and leaned his back against the wall. “That’s me.” 

“Wow! I can’t believe you’re calling me. What’s up?” 

“I’m calling to tell you Dwight won’t be coming into work today. And that we should get lunch sometime. You know, to catch up.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Yeah, of course. Sounds awesome!” Michael jabbered along for a few more minutes before he said he had to go because stupid Toby wanted him to conduct their weekly Friday meeting.

Jim hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen, prepping some marinade. He immediately put down his measuring spoons when he heard Dwight coughing from the living room. Jim wiped his hands on his apron (that was borrowed from Dwight) and hurried into the living room just in time to see Dwight rush past him and down the steps into the basement. Unfortunately, Dwight didn’t make it to the toilet in time and ended up retching all over bathroom floor. Dwight rested his hands on his knees and panted, his head pounding harshly and sweat dripped down his forehead. 

“At least you made it to the bathroom,” Jim joked. 

Dwight turned to look at Jim but lost his balance. Jim jumped forward, grabbed Dwight’s arm, and barely managed to keep them from teetering over into Dwight’s vomit. Once their feet were planted securely, Dwight rested half his weight into Jim and half onto the edge of the sink, which creaked warningly. Dwight coughed, tears pooled in his eyes as air rushed through his dry throat. He gripped onto to Jim’s shoulder and leaned under to the faucet and rinsed his mouth before taking long gulps from the steady stream of cool water.

“Better?” Jim asked. 

Dwight nodded and immediately regretted it when his head throbbed painfully. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed, leaning into Jim’s comforting embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispered with his eyes shut tight. 

“Don’t be.” 

Even though Jim said not to be sorry, Dwight still was. He was sorry for getting drunk so much and being negligent of his daily tasks. Most of all, he was sorry for what he had caused Mark to do. Dwight wished every day and night that he could take that day back. Or at least have been more careful about explicitly showing their affection for each other. That was probably the most difficult aspect of their relationship; being unable to show their affection for each other.

Most Friday, Dwight lazed around on the couch, wallowing in self pity and despair. Jim stayed in the house making lanyards and watching over Dwight, making sure he didn’t get wasted again. Jim appreciated the mundane aspect of making lanyards, something an elementary schooler could make. It kept his hands busy and mind focused on the repetitive pattern enough to forget his own anxieties and doubts of the world outside Dwight’s farm house. At noon, Jim stopped and handed food to Mose, who scurried out and served it to the farm hands and himself. 

Saturday rolled around, and Jim decided to take a break from his lanyards. He had made enough to fill a couple boxes, enough to make a bit of cash. He would hand them over to Mose mid-October and he would set them out to sell during their late fall farm sale. Jim decided to go into Scranton and see what gift he could find for Dwight. Their four-month anniversary was that Wednesday, in four days. 

Jim smiled giddily to himself and Dwight noticed from his position in the basement bathroom. “What’s up with you?” Dwight asked, his voice scratchy from waking up not long ago.  
“Mm, nothing,” Jim said with a sly grin and placed his toothbrush in the holder. “Just decided to go into Scranton today.” 

Dwight laughed, recalling their anniversary coming up soon. “Alright, but I want breakfast first.” 

“Yes, your highness,” Jim joked and bowed. 

After feeding Mystery, eating pancakes, and enough kisses to make Mose thoroughly uncomfortable, Jim left in his Camry. The cousins finished rinsing off the dishes and placed them and the silverware into the dishwasher. Dwight trailed after Mose as he walked outside and lit up a cigar, tilted his head back, and enjoying the morning breeze caressing his face and tousling his brown hair. 

Soon, the two were sat astride horses, which took little negotiation before Dwight gave in, and meandering around the farm. Dwight figured he and Mose must have lost track of time because they watched as Jim’s car rolled down the winding dirt road and pulled to a stop beside his Camaro. Either that or Jim was a lightning fast shopper. 

Dwight heeled his horse, Megee, into a canter and hurried over to Jim. Jim watched impressed as Dwight and Megee gallantly made their way to him. The thundering of hoofbeats echoed in Dwight’s ribcage and forced out a loud whoop. He pulled Megee to a stop a couple yards from Jim, who clapped, secretly nervous he was about to get trampled. Megee mouthed the bit and whinnied, dragging her front hoof against the dirt, itching to run more. 

“It’s my prince in shining armor, here to save me from the hundred-yard walk to the door.” 

Dwight dipped his head. “Yes, your prince has arrived.” 

“I’m going to put this bag in a safe, hidden place,” Jim said, motioning to the bag in his hand. “Then I’m going to wait upstairs, hoping a handsome prince would come and cure me from my…” He trailed off, not sure of a better word for horniness. 

Luckily, Dwight, who was usually denser than New York City, noticed the arousal growing in Jim’s pants and caught on. He smirked and said, “Your prince will be there soon.” 

Jim watched as Dwight turned Megee around and cantered away from him. Jim bit his lip and wondered why Dwight riding a horse was sexy to him. He found he didn’t care and just wanted Dwight to plow him in their bedroom. Down in the basement, Jim hid the present behind a basket of yarn and slipped his hand in his underwear, a spit slicked finger slipping into his ass. He pulled his finger out and inspected it, making sure he was clean. He figured his asshole was satisfactory and trumped up both separate flights of stairs, waiting impatiently for Dwight in the bedroom. 

He fished the lube out from the dresser on his side of the bed and grabbed the bottle of lube. Jim laid flat on his back and coated his fingers with slick lube and pushed into his ass, which had gotten tighter after not being stretched for over three weeks. He groaned when a spark of pain jolted up his back. Jim paused, two long fingers in his asshole, and waited until he adjusted to the slight stretch. He bit his bottom lip tightly and pumped his fingers in and out. He then added a third finger and a moan slipped past his teeth and lips into the hot air. 

“Damn, Jim,” Dwight said. “You look hot.” 

Jim glanced though his spread knees and over his erect cock to see Dwight standing there, watching. “You gonna fuck me or just watch?” Jim said. He meant to say it loud and proud, but his voice came out wrecked and shaky in pleasure. His thighs twitched and his knees wobbled as his knuckles drug against a certain spot inside himself. 

Dwight shimmied out of his pants, leaving him in only a tank top, and kneeled between Jim’s spread and shaking legs. He pulled Jim’s wrist gently, and Jim got the message. He pulled his fingers from his asshole and fumbled around until he found the lube in the bedsheets. Dwight used it to slick his rock hard erection and slathered some more onto Jim’s rim, barely dipping the pad of his finger in, just enough to tease but not enough to give Jim any sort of satisfaction. 

“I...” Jim started and trailed off, a moan stuck in his throat as Dwight continued to tease the outside of his asshole. “I want to ride you.” 

Now it was Dwight’s turn for his eyeballs to nearly pop out of his head. “Fuck, Jim, you’re going to make me cum before I even do you.” 

Jim snorted and stuck his hand out for help. Dwight pulled him up and laid on his back, letting Jim straddle him. Jim leaned his body over Dwight’s and tightly gripped his shoulders, rolling his hips down into his, rubbing their leaking erections together. Jim retracted his dominant hand from Dwight’s shoulder and grabbed Dwight’s cock, positioning it in place as he sunk down on it. Dwight had to close his eyes and compose himself, trying not to come immediately at the sight of the hot and flustered Jim sinking his tight ass down on the length of his dick. 

Once Dwight was completely buried in the tight ring of muscle, Jim moved both his hands to his chest and gripped, blunt nails digging into his skin through the thin fabric. Slowly but surely, Jim started moving his hips up and down, rolling them side to side, while holding onto Dwight to keep himself steady. Jim didn’t notice how much he was moaning and panting as Dwight’s thick cock ran along the sensitive walls inside him, all he knew was the pleasure was fantastic. 

Dwight gripped Jim’s hips, pulling down and making Jim gasp loudly and nearly fall off his boyfriend's dick. “Holy shit,” Jim cursed shakily. A slight pause then, “Do that again,” he commanded breathily. 

Dwight agreed with a grunt and another thrust of his hips upward, digging his average sized cock far and deep into the hot ass. Jim was a moaning, sweating mess as Dwight hit his prostate repetitively and rubbed along inside him, nerves alight and burning with a gratifying fire. Jim felt a warmth spreading through his entire body and before he knew it, he was coming. He came so hard and fast and it lasted so long, Jim could only yell out to keep from departing from his body and ascending cloud 9. Once the dancing spots and black faded from his vision, Jim opened his eyes and looked down at Dwight, who was shocked and still hard in his ass, which was buzzing with after shock. Jim looked down to follow his partner’s gaze and saw that his dick was still standing straight up. 

They realized Jim had come without ejaculating, which stumped the two men. Apparently, you could come from just your ass, without ever touching your dick, and it would feel better than a regular orgasm, last longer, and you could orgasm again.

“Again?” Dwight asked, gazing up at Jim, whose eyes still had tears of pleasure in them, a few still dripping down his sweaty face. 

“If you don’t fuck me again, I will kick your ass,” Jim said, voice rough and choked. 

Without question, they worked their hips together, up and down just like pistons, moaning and grunting in ecstasy. Dwight found himself grow close and he shouted that out into the room, which was filled with Jim’s loud wanton moans and sweaty skin slapping together. Dwight grabbed Jim’s bouncing cock and pumped quickly. They came almost simultaneously, thanks to Dwight stroking Jim’s swollen cock, then collapsed together in a heap of sweaty exhaustion. 

“Holy shit,” Jim said after a couple minutes of catching his breath. 

“Yeah.” 

Jim removed his head from Dwight’s shoulder and looked down at him, smiling happily at the sight of him flushed and fatigued from their lustful rendezvous. Jim leaned in and kissed him hard, shivering as sparks ran down his spine and his stomach sparkled with liking. Dwight’s tongue slipped past Jim’s parted lips and caressed the others tongue gently and purposefully. Jim’s heart swelled, as did Dwight’s, and he felt his body turn to jelly and laid his full weight onto Dwight’s body, kissing deeply and sharing each other’s air. 

Downstairs, Mose and Michael sat on the couch in awkward silence, glad the moaning and groaning was finally over. 

“I’m guessing Jim forgot we were meeting for lunch,” Michael said, breaking the obstinate silence.


	16. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stares from the people in the restaurant triggers the memories of that night and Jim can't stop the intense flashback.

Post coitus, Jim tromped down the stairs in need of water. He held onto the handrail and looked down into the living room. In shock of what he saw, Jim lost his footing and tumbled down the few remaining stairs. Michael and Mose rushed over to check on Jim, relieved to find he was okay, just extremely shocked. 

“Did you see a ghost?” Michael asked, peering down at Jim, who was sprawled out on the hardwood floor. “Is that what scared you? A ghost?” 

“Wh- no, no,” Jim stuttered out and pulled himself to a sitting position. “You.” 

“Me?” Michael laughed. “Is it my new beanie that threw you off?” He modeled off his puke-green beanie. 

If this had been an office setting, Jim would have lied and said ‘yes, your hat scared me’. But this wasn’t an office setting; it was his home. 

Dwight’s voice traveled down from the top of the staircase asking, “Michael, what are you doing here? What’s going on? Jim, why are you on the floor? Are you okay?” 

Michael stood up and dusted off his Levi jeans (that were dry cleaned) and answered the flurry of questions. “Jim and I were supposed to have lunch at noon, but I guess he forgot. Oh, and Jim fell down a couple stairs, but it’s no big deal.” 

“WHAT?!” Dwight screamed and rushed down the stairs, examining Jim’s body for any broken or fractured bones. “Does your head hurt?” Dwight asked as he pulled Jim’s eyelid up, getting a better look at his eye. 

“No, it doesn't. I’m fine,” Jim said. He pulled back from Dwight’s worrying hands and stood up on his own, showing Dwight there was no need to worry, that he was alright. 

“I didn’t know you two were lovers,” Michael said, breaking the ice. 

Dwight bit his tongue between his lips and turned from his boyfriend to look at his boss, who stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking cool as a cucumber. “Well, now you do. Anyways, what are you doing here, Michael?” Dwight asked shortly, marginally pissed that Michael said Jim falling down some stairs was ‘no big deal’. 

Michael tilted his head and laughed. “I already told you, Jim and I-“

“No, I heard that,” Dwight cut in. “I mean why are you in my house, acting like you own the place?” 

Jim’s eyebrows shot up. He had never heard Dwight talk to Michael like that. 

“What?” Michael asked, laughed awkwardly. “I’m not. I was just waiting on Jim with Mose.” 

“Wait,” Jim butted in, earning all eyes on him. “I don’t remember us discussing having lunch. I said we should meet up once, I think, but we never set a time.” 

Dwight’s eyes shifted from Michael to Jim, then back to Michael again. Mose, realizing he did not want to be in this awkward situation, scurried from the room quietly and disappeared outside, running until he couldn't see the farmhouse.

“I sent you an email,” Michael explained. 

“Okay, well, I don’t usually check my email. And you just showed up even though I didn’t respond?” Jim asked, an edge of amusement building in his sentence as he realized how ridiculous the situation was. 

“I said -in the email- that you only had to respond if you had any objections.” 

Jim rested a hand to his forehead and chuckled. “Well, damn, okay. Seems we both screwed up.” 

“Michael more than you.” 

“Yes, thank you, Dwight,” Jim laughed.

“Do you still want to go to lunch or?” Michael asked, motioning behind him, even though there was only a wall. 

“Um, I guess. Might as well.” Jim shrugged, thinking it was better to get this conversation with Michael over now or continue sweating over it for weeks to come. “It’s not as if it could get any more embarrassing.” 

Dwight immediately said, “Don’t jinx it, Jim.” 

Jim snapped his fingers. “Right," he said, trying to even out his voice. "Anyways, where did you want to go?” 

“I wanted to go to Hooters, but I don’t think that’s the right place anymore,” Michael said laughing. 

“No, Hooters is fine. Let’s just go there.” 

Michael furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the couple curiously. “But you’re gay, aren’t you? Gay guys don’t like boobs and Hooters is all boobs!” 

Dwight and Jim both rolled their eyes. Jim didn’t know what label Dwight best related with, but Jim knew what label he used. “I’m bisexual,” he deadpanned. 

“Oh,” Michael’s eyes lit up excitedly. “So, we can still go to Hooters?” 

“Yes, sure.” Jim turned to Dwight and said, “But I’m not going to flirt with any of the waitresses.”

Dwight nodded. “Okay. I already knew you wouldn’t, but thanks for reassuring me.” 

Jim’s cheeks heated at the look in Dwight’s eyes. He gave Dwight a smile, resisting the urge to kiss him in front of his former boss. He turned back to Michael and asked, “So, are we going or what?” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Let’s go!” Michael cheered and led the way. 

Jim stopped and turned around and pressed a deep kiss to Dwight’s lips. He hurried away and caught up with Michael before he could turn around. They got into Michael’s car and he cranked up the music, some pop song that Jim had never heard, and Jim was thankful. He really didn’t want to sit through a silent car ride. Six three-minute songs later, they arrived at Hooters and walked in, taking a seat near the front of the restaurant. Since he wasn’t driving, and he was sitting with someone who had just heard him moaning loudly while getting ass fucked, Jim ordered two beers. 

In an attempt to prolong the inevitable, Jim asked Michael what was happening around the office. Michael went on a long tangent about how bitchy Jan was being and how she kept making him do work. Jim found it funny that Michael was complaining that his boss was making him do his job, but he didn’t voice this thought, wanting Michael to keep talking so he could drink. It wasn’t until Jim had taken his first bite of his hot dog that Michael brought up his relationship with Dwight. 

“How long have you and Dwight been doing it?” 

Jim choked on his food and coughed loudly, trying not to swallow a chunk of unchewed hotdog. Michael laughed and shoved a fry in his mouth and, not caring that Jim was choking, asked quite loudly, “Are you the one taking it or-“ 

Jim slapped his hand over Michael’s mouth. His whole body was burning with embarrassment as the people at the tables surrounding them gave him nasty looks. He felt himself start to shake. “Be quiet,” Jim hissed and coughed again, still recovering from his hotdog choke. “Do you realize what you’re saying? People get killed for having a same-sex lover.” 

Suddenly, Jim was shaking so bad he accidentally knocked his beer off the table with his long arm. The bottle clattered to the floor and broke and Jim ran. He ran out of the restaurant, away from the people, away from the incident. He tried to stop the flashbacks, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think rationally or of anything other than _that_ day.

Jim tripped (on what, he didn't know) and tumbled down to the concrete. A sob left his trembling lips as he pulled himself back to his feet, not noticing Michael chasing him or the other pedestrians staring at him and whispering urgently or the lady wearing large oval sunglasses calling the police. He gripped his unruly hair and yanked harshly, trying to ignore the haunting ghosts of the past overtaking his mind. He didn’t know how long he ran before his knees collapsed and he sunk down on the sidewalk as tears slid down his face. He didn’t know where he was, but it was quiet and hidden with shadows. 

Jim wrapped his arms tightly around his knees and rocked himself. He drew large gasps of air down through his scorching throat and into his burning lungs. He gnawed on his lip, trying to feel something other than the panic seeping though his blood. 

“Stop! Fuck, stop!” Jim yelled at the memories flashing through his mind. The hand, the blood, the hooker, everything. “GOD, STOP! STOP!” 

A yell from his right entered his ear but it did not register in his mind. Hands shook his shoulders, but he couldn’t escape from the memory. He was trapped in his head and reliving the hell he endured close to a month ago. It was so raw, and so real, because it was real. 

A needle poked into his exposed bicep and the reality, or illusion, or fantasy, fell away into a pleasant blackness as he lost consciousness.


	17. Commence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's hospital stay doesn't work so well with a homophobic doctor. 
> 
> Welcome to America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone spot the emo Panic! At The Disco reference in the chapter lmao. Also, yeah, sorry I left you people on a cliffhanger. Ready for yet another?

“Lakawana County Sheriff’s Office,” Jinn answered, as per usual, though the answer they got was anything but typical.

“I’m calling to report some guy, maybe schizophrenic, running down the sidewalk yelling and crying,” the feminine voice answered. “He’s hysterical. Or insane. Someone needs to get him off the street before he hurts himself or someone else.”

Jinn’s drawn on eyebrows flew up and they grabbed a notepad and pen. He urged the woman to continue and give as many details of the person she saw. Jinn scribbled down the description with their left hand and held the receiver to their ear with the other. He thanked the lady and wrote her name, Rebecca Ken, as the reporter. They hung up and rushed off to get someone to find the male as quickly as possible. 

Jinn’s chest tightened when they thought of what Mr. Halpert might do to himself, assuming Jinn’s assumption based on detail was correct. To soothe their nerves, Jinn dialed up Dwight, foot tapping anxiously while the phone rung static. As soon as Dwight answered, Jinn wasted no time and jumped to the point, “Dwight, is Jim at home?” 

“No, he left maybe an hour ago with Michael. Wait, why?” 

“Well, we got a call of a man running out of a restaurant, hysterical. From what it seems, I think it was Jim Halpert having a major panic attack, or flashback. Hard to say since I haven’t seen him.” 

“What?!” Dwight screamed, causing Jinn to wince and yank their ear from the receiver. “Where is he?” 

“Dwight, calm down. I sent a group of officers to find him, and some medical staff in case he worries himself into an unbearable state or attempts anything he normally wouldn’t. Luckily his area is pinpointed. We should find him soon.”

“Are-are you suggesting Jim might commit suicide?” Dwight asked, voice creeping up a few octaves. He sounded close to hysterics, which was completely understandable, but at such a time, he needed to remain calm and panic later. 

“Dwight, you know that is not what I mean.” Jinn rubbed their forehead, not caring that it would unsettle the thick foundation. “Listen to me. I want you to come to the station. Once Sheriff Dane’s team finds Jim, they will tell us where he should be transported to.” 

“Ok,” Dwight answered choppily and hung up abruptly. He shoved his feet into random shoes and ran out of the house and hopped into his car, tires peeling up dirt, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. 

No more than five minutes later, Dwight, red-faced and breathing heavily, ran into the station and up to Jinn’s desk. “Heard anything?” He asked, panting and coughing. 

Jinn stood and shook their head, sliding an arm over Dwight’s shoulders. “Not yet, but I’m certain we will soon.” 

Jinn steered Dwight over to the break room and stopped them in front of the water fountain. Dwight downed the water ravenously and let out a large belch to signify he was done. Jinn patted Dwight in the shoulder and retracted their hand, giving Dwight some space, and theirself too. They did not necessarily like physical contact, but knew it was necessary at times, especially when their friend's boyfriend was in danger. 

Jinn’s walkie beeped, and Dane’s voice came through, asking if they were there. Jinn was nervous to hear about Mr. Halpert’s state but responded with their normal, cool tone, “Yes, I’m here. Is the person you found Jim Halpert?” 

“If I remember his face correctly, yes. In any case contact Dwight Schrute, if you haven’t already, and come to the hospital. Also, we had to give Halpert a sedative. It seems he was having a flashback and was reliving something.” 

“Okay. DWight is with me already, so we will be headed to the hospital promptly,” Jinn responded and ignored the other ramble that came from his walkie and hurried after Dwight, who had already taken off sprinting towards the front doors.

Jinn ran and slid into the passenger side of Dwight’s red Camaro like they had done it a thousand times before. Dwight punched the gas before Jinn had even closed the door, but they paid no mind to this. Jinn rested their hands on the dashboard, moving their torso with Dwight’s wide swinging turns so they wouldn’t topple over. Jinn placed their trust in Dwight’s reflexes as Dwight broke every driving law possible. They blew out a large breath when Dwight pulled to a screeching halt in front of the hospital and pushed the gearshift into park with so much force Jinn was surprised that he didn’t rip it out of place. 

Jinn pulled the keys from the ignition, locked the doors quickly, and hurried after Dwight who had already disappeared inside. Jinn, who was much faster than people assumed a high-heeled wearing person would be, sprinted and quickly stopped beside Dwight, who was telling a receptionist who he was trying to see. Jinn pulled out their Sheriff ID card and the receptionist quickly apologized and told them the room number. Dwight impatiently pushed the button for the elevator, but it was taking too long for him, so he decided to take the stairs. Jinn followed him, and they rushed up two flights of stairs and a few corridors before they stopped outside room #314. 

They sign on the door said the doctor was in the room and working so no other admittance was permitted. This allowed them time to catch their breaths and arrange their thoughts and for Jinn to lick their finger and rub out a scuff on their shiny black ankle boot. They looked down at Dwight, who was by no means short, but when Jinn wore heels, they stood at an impressive 6’5 so they had to look down at most people, and asked, “You okay?” 

“Not until I see him,” Dwight said, voice rough from his drying throat.

He looked up and the two locked eyes and Jinn was surprised to see such a raw expression on his face. Jinn swallowed and looked away, suddenly not feeling they should be seeing that much worry on someone’s face unless it was meant for them. They stood in tense silence, Jinn trying to calm their friend, and waited for what felt like eternity for the door to open and a balding doctor to appear holding a clipboard in front of his rounded stomach. 

Immediately Dwight asked, “Is Jim okay?” 

The doctor looked up at the two tall people towering over him with a confused look. “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot say anything to a friend.” 

“I’m his partner,” Dwight said icily. “And this is Jinn,” he said sticking a thumb towards them. “They are with the Sheriff’s office.” 

Jinn flipped open their ID and held it in front of the doctor’s face. The doctors mouth opened and closed, hating himself because he was intimidated by Jinn, who he thought 'looked like some goddamn queer'. “Ah, well, I can’t let you see him right now,” he said and made a move to get around Dwight. 

But before he could get away Jinn shifted quickly and stood in front of him, arms folded tightly over their chest. Their arms brushed the top of the doctor’s hair as the man halted, suddenly cornered by a walking tree. “Why?” They asked, voice scarily deep. 

The doctor shrunk back, and his back hit the wall. Dwight turned to face the doctor as well, keeping him against the wall. Jinn bent their neck down and stared into the doctor’s frightened eyes. “Why?” They asked again, usually cool voice laced with venom. “Why can’t we see him? I know for certain that he is awake.” 

“I-I’m the doctor here!” He exclaimed, trying to sound tougher and larger than he really was. “You listen to what I say.” 

“That’s not a fucking reason,” they spat. “I asked you why. Now answer me.” 

“Well, I didn’t realize the patient was gay, and I’m not treating a gay person, so I’m having him transferred to the psychiatric ward,” the doctor said, seeming had found his voice. 

Jinn’s eyes were murderous. “Why the psychiatric ward?” They asked, voice raising slightly. “You can’t send him there because he’s in a homosexual relationship.”

He smirked. “Can’t I? After all, I am the doctor here.”

Then the homophobic doctor was falling to the floor. Dwight had socked him in the face and jumped on top of him once he lost his balance. Dwight swung at the doctor’s face in a flurry of rage, hitting and bruising and splitting the asshole’s lip open. Jinn noticed a couple nurses rushing over and quickly pulled Dwight off the doctor by the back of his shirt. 

“What’s going on here?” A nurse in pink scrubs asked as she knelt beside the doctor cowering on the floor. “Doctor Stuart, are you alright?” She asked worriedly.

Two other female nurses grabbed Dwight by either arm, keeping him in place, while Jinn answered the nurse on the floor. “The doctor was refusing to treat the patient, Jim Halpert, because he is in a relationship with this man here,” they said and pointed at Dwight, who was seething and baring his teeth. “I do realize that is legal, but the doctor sending Mr. Halpert to the psychiatric ward because of it is illegal. I would know what is and isn’t legal because I work for the Sheriff’s office.” 

The two nurses restraining Dwight were silent and uncomfortable. The nurse on the floor helped the doctor to a sitting position and handed him a tissue to hold to his bleeding lip. “Doctor, can I read the patient notes, so I can help the gentlemen understand better what is happening.” 

Jinn’s lip curled at the ‘gentlemen’ part but figured it would be worse to say anything. Stuart mumbled a "Yes," spitting a bit of blood with his word. 

The nurse grabbed the clipboard off the floor and flipped through the pages. “Well, it seems this is all a misunderstanding. He is not going to any other ward.” 

“That’s not what he just said,” Dwight insisted. 

The nurse shrugged, and Dwight sighed defeatedly. Jinn, who was not easily deterred, narrowed their eyes and stared down into the dark eyes of the nurse. “You’re lying,” they said simply. 

Everyone, including a random middle-aged lady walking by and a chubby nurse in the shadows, turned and looked at Jinn. “Excuse me?” The nurse asked with a scoff. 

“You heard me. I know you’re not telling us the truth.” 

The two stared at each other and with a twitch of their shoulder, Jinn snatched the clipboard from her cocoa colored hand and held it up high, away from her hands, and flipped to Jim’s chart. “It says here Doctor Stuart thinks it was a stress induced outburst from being in a homosexual relationship, according to the patient’s records. The doctor suggests that Mr. Halpert be subjected to conversion therapy for the better good and to prevent him from having any other episodes.” Jinn slipped their phone from the pocket of their pant suit and snapped a picture of the document. “Thank you for cooperating with me,” Jinn said dryly and tossed the clipboard onto the doctor’s lap, straight over the nurse’s head. “You will be hearing from me soon. But for now, Mr. Schrute will be staying in Mr. Halpert’s room, which will stay right here in this ward. Understood?” 

The doctor and nurse visibly shrunk into themselves. “Understood?” Jinn shouted angrily, causing everyone to jump. 

“Y-Yes,” the nurse squeaked. 

Jinn’s heels clacked as they walked away. They vaguely nodded a nurse, who had tried to keep hidden behind a fake plant, watching them behind thick glasses. They stopped and turned back around and sidled up beside the African American nurse, who stood still and frightened. “And I’m not a gentleman, you hear? I use they/them pronouns.” 

Dwight, extremely impressed with how awesome and brave Jinn was, watched them walk away and disappear into the stairwell. “You heard them,” he said and shook himself away from the nurse’s loosened grips. He gave them a wave and stepped into Jim’s hospital room with a valiant smirk on his face.

With the door now closed, acting as a barricade, Dwight could finally see Jim. He walked over to see his lover laying back in the hospital bed, surprisingly awake.

“What happened out there?” Jim asked, his voice still raspy from yelling. 

Dwight flopped down in the chair beside the raised bed. He sighed and rubbed his temples, his knuckles still stinging from their pounding against Doctor Stuart’s face. “A lot, but that’s not important right now. What is important is whether or not you are okay.” 

“I’m fine now,” Jim replied with a tiny smile. “I guess.” 

Dwight asked the question he feared. “Did you… hurt yourself?” 

“No,” Jim answered immediately and grabbed Dwight’s hand. “I pulled my hair but that’s it.” 

Dwight breathed out a sigh of relief and squeezed Jim’s hand, staring at the cord that led from his wrist to a machine monitoring his pulse.

“What triggered it?” Dwight asked quietly. 

They both knew, without saying, that the shock had faded, and his nightmarish days had finally sunk in, leading to this flashback. Dwight gave Jim time to gather himself and focused on the steady but quick beeping of the heart monitor and the warmth from Jim’s hand enveloping his own. After a few minutes, Jim was finally able to summarize what happened. Dwight listened quietly, though his mind was screaming, and his blood was boiling. 

Dwight absolutely hated that all this had happened to Jim, just because they were dating. It was all Dwight’s fault. If he had just crushed his feelings and not kissed Jim at the Dundies, Jim would have never thought anything was different. Perhaps that would have been for the better if Dwight had never done anything with Jim to begin with other than acting like ‘enemies’ at work. 

Dwight watched sorrowfully as Jim slept. He leaned over Jim and kissed his forehead. With a frown Dwight whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

Dwight was sorry he couldn’t let Jim go before they got in too deep. “I’m so fucking sorry,” Dwight sobbed. He covered his face with his hands as fat tears rained down his cheeks uncontrollably. 

`````````````

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jinn?” Sheriff Dane shouted angrily. “You can’t look at private documents without proper consent!” 

This is going exactly how I thought it would: bad, Jinn thought. They sighed and uncrossed their legs and watched Dane pace angrily back in front of where they sat. “Sir, with all due respect, I feel as if we were in the right to know. They were lying to us.” 

Dane stopped his pacing and looked down at Jinn, eyes hard with rage. “Shit, Jinn, you realize we could be sued for this? If you get pressed before you can get them for withholding information, the case will be worthless, will it not?” 

Jinn thought about that and realized, “You’re right, Sheriff. I apologize for my reckless actions.” 

“Just saying sorry isn’t going to cut it, son,” Danes said harshly. “I’m going to have to put you on probation until this is settled.” 

“Sir, you can’t do that,” Jinn said just as harshly. They stood and looked down at their superior with malice. “Without my testimony, this case will be swept under the rug!” 

Sheriff Dane was quiet for too long a moment. “I know,” he said simply and lowly. “That’s the point.” 

Jinn was appalled. “But-“ 

“That is all,” Sheriff Dane interrupted. “Get your things from your desk. Marge will cover your absence, so you can rest easy. I will tell you when your probation has ended. Understood?” 

Though Dane had left it on a question, it was obvious Jinn wasn’t supposed to ask questions. They said nothing and watched as the Sheriff left the room and closed the door behind him. Jinn banged their closed fist on the wooden table and cursed the man in his head. 

It was now crystal clear to Jinn that they would have to take care of this on their own. 

``````````

Jim blinked away the sleepiness and glanced around the hospital room. He noticed it was half past seven and his dinner sat on the bedside table, getting cold. Jim wondered where Dwight went and shrugged it off. He grabbed the tray of hospital food -chicken, peas, and potatoes- and paused when he heard hushed voices coming from the bathroom connected to his room. 

With a raised brow, Jim strained his ears to better hear. He recognized Dwight’s voice easily, but the other voice was only vaguely familiar. Jim couldn’t quite put a finger on who it was. All he knew was that Dwight and someone were arguing whether something was a good idea or not. 

“That way is too risky,” Dwight countered Jinn’s suggestion.

“Perhaps,” Jinn said and leaned their back against the closed bathroom door. “But it’s the best way.” Jinn noticed Dwight’s hesitation and reassured him by saying, “Trust me, Dwight. If I do end up getting caught, you will not be connected. You’ve known me for years, and you know I have my ways of getting shit done.” 

Dwight pursed his lips and rested his forehead on the wall, contemplating the seriousness and risks that came with what they were going to do. “For what they’ve done, and what Dane is doing, they deserve to be caught,” Dwight said, face still against the door. “But if you get caught, you could go to jail.”

“Dwight, don’t you think I know the consequences?” Jinn laughed slightly and watched Dwight turn to face them, eyes wary. “So long as we’re careful and act inconspicuous, we can get them to admit shit themselves without having to something illegal. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.” 

Jinn might have sounded like an airhead, if someone didn’t know them, but Dwight knew his friend and knew they weren’t lying. If anything, they were understating their skills. “Okay. I trust you Jinn.” 

Jinn gave him a half smile and pulled a tube of lipstick from their pocket. They turned to the mirror and applied the cranberry color and popped their lips and looked at Dwight in the mirror and winked. “Leave it to me,” they said and disappeared from the bathroom, giving Jim a little wave, and closing the goddamn door behind them. 

Jinn’s heels clicked with authority as they walked down the hall, searching for the small nurse who had been watching them with wide eyes and red cheeks all day. Jinn was amazed that she hid during the whole confrontation with Doctor Stuart without ever being spotted, by anyone but themself of course. A peek of dark eyes behind round glasses stopped Jinn in their tracks. 

“Hello,” they smiled and looked down at the woman, who barely claimed the title of being 5 feet tall. She blushed and stared up at them, face impossibly redder. “If you don’t mind, I would like you to join me for a cup of coffee. When does your shift end?” 

“I-In an hour,” she stuttered in a squeaky voice. 

Jinn smiled and bent down, though there was still over a foot of distance between their faces, and said, “I’ll look forward to it, sweetheart.” 

She looked down and hid her heated face. She interlocked her fingers over her large bust and whispered, “Me too.”

Jinn turned and walked away. Women are easy, they thought. I don’t understand when men say they don’t understand them. Jinn flipped their hair sassily and got into the elevator, pressing the button for ground floor. 

In an hour, part one would commence.


	18. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all, we are all human.

“How did it go?” Dwight questioned.

Jinn stirred some half and half into their coffee with a small spoon and answered, “Pretty well. Ms. Jeanne said she would testify against Doctor Stuart if we did sue. Apparently, Jim is not the first person Stuart has tried to shove into the psychiatric ward with no real cause. She also thinks that he isn’t equipped to be a doctor, though he has a degree. He breaks a lot of rules and shimmies away from protocol.”

Dwight nodded and sipped his own coffee, wincing when it burned his tongue. He glanced around the hospital cafeteria, taking in the small scatter of tired people. Jinn and Dwight were both early risers, so the six-a.m. time didn’t bother them like it did with the others in the large cafeteria. 

Jinn took a small sip of their coffee and asked warily, “Did any nurse or doctor try to move Jim last night?” 

Dwight shook his head. “No, though I was almost too scared to come down here for a few minutes. I don’t want them rolling Jim away without me being there.” 

Jinn nodded, relieved. “I get that. Luckily, it takes some time to get ready to transfer, so even if they tried, they wouldn’t succeed.” 

Dwight stared into his coffee. “True,” he said. “But I’m still not going to leave him alone for long.” 

“I wouldn’t advise you to do so,” Jinn replied. “You should keep a constant eye on him. I mean, sure, Doctor Stuart moving him to a different ward would be great for our case, but we don’t want that.” 

Dwight nodded. “Right.” 

Jinn took a bite of their biscuit slathered with strawberry jam. They looked at Dwight, who was staring vacantly into his dark coffee. Jinn licked jam off their lip and said, “You should eat something. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” 

Dwight sighed and continued staring blankly into his coffee. “I’m not hungry.” 

Jinn stared at him, knowing from experience that the man was hungry, but his nerves were too busy darting around his stomach for him to notice. Jinn silently pushed their fruit parfait to Dwight and commanded, “Eat at least half. You can’t get up until you do so.” 

Dwight knew his friend only meant the best, so he peeled open the lid but couldn’t bring himself to take a bite. He stood up and said, “I’m going to smoke first.”

Jinn stared up at their worn-down friend and huffed, “Sure, but you’re going to come back and finish this.” 

Dwight gave them a nod and disappeared out the doors and from Jinn’s sight. Jinn crossed their legs and flipped open the newspaper, glancing around the pages, trying to find something interesting. The closest thing to interesting in the Scranton newspaper was an article about higher crop sales than the previous autumn. Jinn finished their biscuit and article and balanced the chair on its back two legs, surveying their surrounding while thinking. 

‘Where the hell is he?’ Jinn wondered. It had been a long while since Dwight left to smoke and Jinn was starting to worry that he had passed out from exhaustion on the sidewalk.   
Jinn stood and left the table the way it was, knowing no one would bother moving it, and roamed outside, searching for Dwight. Finally, they found Dwight behind a longer part of the building, crying into his knees. Jinn halted and stared, frozen, at the man crying in the shadows. They didn’t know what to do. Obviously, Dwight had wanted his space, but should Jinn try and comfort him anyway? He was obviously hurting, and, after all they were friends, so Jinn made their way over to him. 

Dwight raised his head when he heard shoe soles thumping on the concrete and looked through bleary eyes at Jinn. Jinn sunk down and leaned back on their heels and sat beside the sniffling man in silence, letting Dwight gather himself before they asked, “What’s wrong?” 

Dwight sighed and lolled his head back against the brick building with a soft thud. A long moment passed before he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

Jinn stared at their red painted nails and kindly said, “I’m here if you want to talk. If not, that’s fine. Just know I’m here for you.” 

Dwight choked on another sob and burrowed his head in between his knees. Jinn picked Dwight’s glasses up off the ground where they were laid haphazardly and fiddled with the frame while they sat quietly, listening to their friend cry sorrowfully. Jinn slid an arm around Dwight’s shoulders and pulled him into their left side, letting him cry in their embrace.   
The silent comfort Jinn provided made Dwight calm down a bit, turning sobs to sniffles in a matter of minutes. Jinn cringed when Dwight’s snot dripped on their fleece jacket sleeve and wordlessly handed him a tissue. Dwight pulled away from Jinn’s side and blew his nose, giving the person space from his runny nose.

“Sorry,” Dwight apologized in between wipes of his nose. “That was gross.”

“It happens,” Jinn shrugged. They wiped Dwight’s snot from their sleeve with another tissue and shoved it into Dwight’s hands saying, “Hold onto it, it’s your snot.” 

Dwight let out a breath of forced laughter and took the tissue from their fingers, crumbling both together in his palm. “Why did you come looking for me?” Dwight asked meekly.

“What the hell do you mean ‘why’?” Jinn said, a bit harsher than they should of. Dwight flinched so Jinn evened their voice and answered, “Because you’re my friend and I’m worried about you. That’s why.” 

“Oh,” was all Dwight could say. 

Dwight’s brain was jumbled up. It was a mess of worry, anguish, and hatred and other emotions he couldn’t place. He wished he could make sense of the endless waves of emotion running through him, but he couldn’t. All he could do was cry and push the feelings down until they became too much, then he would drink them away. Dwight told himself he would stop following that cycle once he figured out what emotions he was feeling, and they were separated and labeled. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Jinn asked. 

Dwight nodded. Jinn helped pull him up by the hand and they walked back into the hospital cafeteria. Just as promised, Dwight ate half the yogurt parfait. They then made their way back up a couple of stories to see Jim, who was eating scrambled eggs. 

“I have good news,” Jim said with a smile. 

Dwight raised his eyebrows, trying to mask his sorrow and show his genuine interest. “Oh, yeah? What is it?” 

“They’re going to release me on Saturday.” 

Jinn and Dwight whipped their heads around to stare at each other, jaws slack and eyes widened in surprise. Jim watched the two in confusion, wondering why they were acting as if he said he was never going to be released. 

Jinn was the first to break their eye contact. They turned and asked Jim, “Are they releasing you from the hospital or just from this ward?” 

“From the hospital, so long as I pass a psychiatric evaluation.” 

Jinn and Dwight looked back at each other, worry in their eyes. Suddenly worried, Jim asked, “Um, what’s going on?”

“I’ll be back,” Jinn said, spinning on the heel of their Converse. “Fill him in as much possible,” they told Dwight, pointing a long finger at him.

Jinn left, snapping the door shut sharply, and Jim asked, “Dwight, what the hell is going on? Is this about the homophobic doctor again?” 

Dwight nodded and sat beside Jim’s hospital bed, resting his head heavily in his hands. 

“He’s treating me, so what’s the problem?” 

Dwight was quiet. Too quiet. 

Jim furrowed his brow. “Dwight, what aren’t you telling me?” 

“Yesterday when you asked what was going on in the hallway, I didn’t tell you everything.” Dwight took a deep breath, still staring at the linoleum floor. “The doctor wanted to send you to the psych ward. Jinn managed to stop him, though.” 

“What the fuck?” Jim exclaimed. “Why-Why would he do that?” 

Dwight clenched his fists together, nails digging into his palms. “Some people think being a homosexual is a mental illness. They look at us as if we’re abnormal animals, not a fucking person with a beating heart and feelings.” 

Jim was silent. He knew Dwight was right, he knew that more than most anyone. Jim glanced over at him boyfriend and noticed how depressed and forlorn he looked. He gulped and fiddled with the itchy hospital sheet. 

“When I was a teenager, just starting to figure out my sexuality, I tried to refuse the part of me that liked guys,” Jim said, instigating Dwight to look up at him. “It’s not that my family detested people who liked someone of the same gender, it was that there was so much influence to be ‘correct’ and ‘normal’. I tried to squish down the part of me that felt that way and prayed to God to make me not feel that way, that it must be a mistake, a stupid jumble of emotions that would fade.” 

Jim felt heat build in his eyes and he continued reminiscing with a slight clog in his voice. “It didn’t fade. Of course, it didn’t, but I still didn’t want to face it or acknowledge it. Still, it was a part of me that I could hide from others, but not from myself. I had to face that part of myself, the part that scared me and made me afraid of myself.” 

“Now that I look back, it was stupid to think I could hide it from myself and be happy. There’s no way in hell I could pretend a large part of myself didn’t exist and be content. Accepting myself was scary, but I don’t regret it. Even though all this shit has happened just because I’m openly bisexual, I don’t regret it. I couldn’t repress my true self and be happy. No one can.” 

Jim felt Dwight’s thumb swipe under his eyes, wiping away the tears that had started falling. Jim hadn’t noticed he started crying. Jim grabbed the sides of Dwight’s face and kissed his squarely on the lips. He pulled back and stared into Dwight’s eyes. He whispered, “I don’t regret our relationship. I don’t regret anything.” 

Dwight’s lip quivered. “How can you not?” He asked, voice cracking with emotion. “You got beaten and raped just because of this. How the fuck can you not regret anything?”   
Jim’s heart clenched. “Do you regret anything about us?” 

Dwight face twisted up and sobbed. “I… I regret that I didn’t try and hide it. All of this happened because I wasn’t conscious enough of homophobes.”

Jim moved his hands from Dwight’s cheeks and brought them back to his face quickly, slapping either side of his face. He leaned in nose-to-nose and seethed, “It’s not your fault some people are psychotic bastards. It’s their fault, got it?” 

Dwight’s tears mingled with Jim’s own. “B-But you still got hurt,” Dwight stuttered out. "And-And..."

Jim swallowed a sob threatening to escape his throat. “Everyone gets hurt, especially those who don’t hit the societal mold, and I‘m not going to suppress myself to give some closed minded fuckers satisfaction.” 

Dwight slumped onto Jim’s body, hugging him tightly. “We are all human. Why don’t they understand that?” 

Jim hugged Dwight tightly. “I don’t know,” he responded, suddenly losing his composure. 

They held each other close and cried, for what else could they do? 

``````````````

Jinn pinned Stuart to the wall of an empty storage room, one hand on the short man’s neck and the other on his shoulder, their knee lodged in his stomach, pressing harshly. The bastard’s eyes were wide in terror, leaking tears of pain from the sides. 

“Let me ask you something,” Jinn said, tone dangerous and chillingly deep. “Have you heard the phrase ‘get what you give’?” 

Stuart was taking in gasping breaths, trying to get as much air into his lungs as he could with a grip on his windpipe. Stuart didn’t answer so Jinn gave the man’s neck a harsh squeeze, cutting off all air. Stuart kicked at Jinn’s shins, but the person didn’t flinch, far too pissed to let up now. 

“I asked you a fucking question, so answer me,” Jinn spat. 

Jinn loosened their grip slightly, just enough so he could breathe. “Y-Yes,” he squeaked. 

Jinn bared their teeth and their lips twitched upward in an animalistic smile. “Good. Unless you want what happened to Jim to happen to you, you will let him go home this Saturday. He WILL pass the evaluation, understood?” 

“Y-Yes,” he squeaked once more. 

“When someone asks about the bruises on your neck, you lie and say it was from a crazy person in the psychiatric ward. Someone who needs to be there. Got it?” 

“Mm, y-yes.” 

Jinn’s eyes were predatory as they stared into Stuart’s. “Just know, I will be watching you. If you fuck up and don’t follow my directions, I will make you pay dearly. And no, that’s not a threat,” they said smiling humorlessly. “It’s a goddamn promise.”


	19. Judging Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart heeds Jinn's warning and carries out their request. Well, part of it at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I bet you bitches were wondering, 'When the hell is he going to update?' and the answer is now.

Dwight bounced his foot nervously, worrying if Jim would be able to pass the psychological evaluation test Doctor Stuart and a nurse practitioner was giving him. Jinn told him that he shouldn’t worry, that Jim would be okay, but Dwight was an anxious overthinker. No matter how many times Jinn tried to reassure Dwight in their calming and collected tone, he would still be apprehensive. After what felt like hours, though it was merely minutes, Doctor Stuart and his helpful nurse emerged from Jim’s room. It was then Dwight noticed a fading purpled bruise around the short man’s neck and glanced over at Jinn, suspicious of what they might have done. Unsurprisingly, Jinn ignored his gaze and asked the doctor, “What’s the verdict?” 

Stuart cleared his throat and winced at the strain. “Mr. Halpert has passed the evaluation test and is free to go home under the condition that he sees a therapist once weekly,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse and strained. 

Dwight let out a breath of air and slumped forward, relief dissolving the tension in his shoulders. “Good,” Dwight said thankfully. 

Jinn gave the doctor a small nod, one that had meaning only between the two of them. The nod said, ‘Good, I don’t have to shove your head in a garbage disposal before you listened’. The doctor fought hard not to shudder in discomfort and averted his eyes from Jinn’s deathly stare. Jinn was a scary person. 

Doctor Stuart quickly scurried away and disappeared down a hallway branching off the main corridor. The nurse practitioner gave the two of them a smile and apologized on the doctor’s behalf, saying, “I apologize that Doctor Stuart ran off. He seems a bit jumpy today, for whatever reason.” 

Well, that did all sorts of things to settle Dwight’s nerves. Now he was almost certain Jinn had done something to the doctor. He didn’t glance over at Jinn, knowing that the man in front of them would find it odd or suspicious. 

“I will let Mr. Halpert go now. Please help him home and take good care of him.” 

Dwight nodded fervently. “Of course,” he said. 

“Good, good. I wasn’t worried, but it’s protocol. You two seem like respectable and trustworthy people,” he said with an approving smile. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dwight stuttered out. “Yes, we are.” 

The nurse just laughed a little, figuring that Dwight was not good at taking a compliment. He motioned them into Jim’s room, where the former patient was using the bathroom. Jinn and Dwight stood huddled near the bedside and watched as the nurse scribbled words and letters on the whiteboard before leaving with a small wave. 

With the nurse now gone, Dwight turned and hissed, “Jinn, what did you do?” 

Jinn raised a plucked brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Come on, don’t play dumb. I saw the bruise on Stuart’s neck. We agreed not to do anything physically harming.” 

Jinn stared at Dwight, face expressionless. The silence was tense. 

Jim opened the bathroom door and broke the stare between the two. Dwight pushed away the thoughts of Jinn hurting the bastard doctor and hurried over to hug Jim. The two embraced and Jim pulled back enough to place a tender kiss on Dwight’s lips. Dwight smiled, though Jim noticed it was a bit forced, and leaned forward to kiss Jim again. While the boyfriends kissed, Jinn busied theirself in picking at the red polish on their fingernails. 

Jinn’s cellphone rang in their pocket. To be polite, they walked over to the doorway and flipped it open, answering with a smooth, “Jinn Remney speaking. Might I ask who is calling?” 

“Jinn,” Sheriff Dane’s voice crackled through the phone. “Can you come down to the station? Now.” 

“Sheriff, I’m on probation. I am not supposed to be at the station.” 

Dane huffed into the receiver. “Yes, you’re on probation, but it seems you are still out wringing people’s throats.” 

A coldness swept through Jinn and they stood rigidly still. “Pardon?” 

“Get down here right now, Jinn,” Dane barked angrily before abruptly ending the call. 

Jinn snapped their phone closed and harshly bit their lip, smudging the lipstick onto their front teeth. That rat bastard has gone back on our agreement, Jinn thought, though they were not exactly surprised. 

They stomped back over to the couple and said, “Dwight, I have to go. Something came up.” 

Dwight’s eyes rang with confusion behind his large glasses before they registered in understanding. “Okay. Call me when you can.” 

“Yeah, sure. Take care,” Jinn said, spinning on their heel and quickly making their way to the elevator while dialing a cab. 

They knew whatever Dane had to say that it wouldn’t be good. But all Jinn had to do was think of a way out of this, make it seem reasonable. 

In the ten-minute drive, it seemed the only reasonable excuse was one that Dane wouldn’t buy. Still, all Jinn could do way lie and try to save their own ass. 

``````````````

“I don’t buy it,” Dane deadpanned. 

Just as I had figured, Jinn thought. They did not let an ounce of uncertainly show on their face as they pressed on. “Sir, I know it sounds like a lie, but it really is the truth. Mr. Stuart tried to attack me.” 

Dane paced in front of Jinn, who was seated in a metal chair, being interrogated about the phone call to Marge from Stuart. Jinn got a sense of déjà vu. 

“Jinn, why the hell would a doctor attack you?” Dane asked, though he wasn’t looking for an answer. He already knew. He crossed his arms and stared down at Jinn in a challenging way, daring them to step out of line and give any indication they were not telling the truth.

Jinn stared back, mouth in a straight line, eyes unflinchingly guarded. 

Dane uncrossed his arms and resumed his angry pacing, fists balled up and at his sides. “Assuming you are telling the truth, which I completely doubt, the evidence is stacked against you.” 

Jinn knew he was right. Damn, they knew that, but they weren’t going down without a fight. “Precisely what evidence? That I wanted him to stand trial for his wrongdoings? Now how is that any sort of evidence? It means I want him to apologize and pay for his debts, that’s all. Sir, you know that I am not a violent person. Why would I hurt someone unless provoked?” 

“Jinn, he’s pressing charges. It doesn’t fucking matter if he provoked you or not. He is injured, and you don’t have so much as a scratch on you,” Dane said with crossed arms. “If he tired to attack you, you could have deflected him and pinned him. You’ve had enough training and experience to know how to properly handle someone trying to attack you.” 

Jinn was silent. They figured it was best not to say anything that would get them more in the hole. They were screwed, and they knew it for a fact.

Dane paced a bit more before stopping and saying, “Tell you what, since we are not getting anywhere, why don’t we strap you and Stuart up to a lie detector and see once and for all who is telling the truth about what happened? Hm?” Dane asked with a disgustingly slimy smirk, knowing this would ultimately prove that Jinn was lying. 

Jinn gave him no satisfaction, saying, “That sounds like the fair and logical thing to do. It would be in your best interest to do so.” 

Dane nodded. “Of course, it would. But it wouldn’t be in YOUR best interest, now would it?” 

Jinn cracked their knuckles. “My interest is to get the truth out in the open and for the truth to be dealt with properly.” 

Dane weighed Jinn’s statement. “Good,” he drawled. “We are on the same page then.” 

They, absolutely, were not on the same page, and they both knew that. 

`````````````

“It feels good to be home,” Jim said as they flopped down on the couch. 

They both sort of froze. It was the first time either of them had referred to Dwight’s farmhouse as Jim’s home. The fact that they lived together was a nice feeling. It made their relationship seem more real. 

“It is,” Dwight agreed. He scratched Mystery’s head, his heart swelling in his empty chest. 

Dwight faked a yawn and said, “I’m going to go upstairs and take a nap.” 

“Okay,” Jim said, already distracted with flipping through the channels on the television. 

He left Mystery on the couch with Jim and lugged himself up the stairs. Dwight closed his bedroom door and drew the curtains closed. He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the queen-sized bed. He didn’t feel sleepy, but he felt… exhausted. He let himself lie on his side, facing the closed curtains, and lay in the darkness, feeling empty. 

Dwight felt jumbled up inside. Little sparks of emotion would hit him, such as when Jim kissed him, or Mystery hopped into his lap, mewing and begging for head scratches, but the emotions were such a small feeling compared to the numbness. It was only a sliver of the happiness or sadness or compared to what he used to feel. Even an hour ago, when he was supposed to be angry with jinn, he didn’t feel much of anything. It was more of a pretend act to show what he should feel rather than what he actually felt, which was numbness.

Dwight sighed and sunk deeper into the mattress. Right now, he felt nothing. And he hated it. 

```````````

A hurried knock on the front door startled Jim. He jolted and fumbled around for the remote and turned down the show he was watching. He scurried over to the door and opened it. 

“Hello,” Jinn said. They looked worn and tired. The dusky sky cast a glow on them, making their eyes appear hollow. “Sorry to bother you this late in the evening, but something happened, and I must tell Dwight about it.” 

“It’s not a bother,” Jim said comfortingly. “Come in. Dwight is sleeping upstairs, but I can wake him.” 

“I hate to interrupt his sleep,” Jinn said apologetically. “But it is dire that I inform Dwight immediately.” 

Jim furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t question them. “Alright. I’ll go get him. Just wait in the living room.” 

The bedroom door creaked open, rousing Dwight from his vegetative state. He grunted and flipped over, looking at Jim. “What?” He asked, his voice tight. 

“Jinn’s here. They said it’s really important.” 

Dwight knew that Jinn didn’t say something was important unless it was life altering significant. “Shit, okay,” he muttered.

He reluctantly rolled out of bed and followed Jim down the stairs and into the living room, where Jinn was sat, running their fingers through their shoulder length hair. A nervous habit. 

Jinn bounced their leg nervously as Dwight flopped down on the couch cushion beside them. Jim twiddled his thumbs and made a motion to leave the room, feeling like he was intruding, but Jinn said, “Jim, you do not need to leave.” 

Even though Jinn said he did not have to leave, Jim still felt he should. “I’m just going to get a snack,” he said. “Go ahead and talk.” 

He gave an awkward little wave and hurried into the kitchen, letting the two talk. He opened the pint of chocolate ice cream and settled on the barstool. Mystery leapt onto the counter and sniffed at the ice cream interestedly. Jim stopped her before she could eat any and pulled the container close to his body, taking bite after bite slowly while letting his mind wander. The week had turned out nothing like planned. He had planned to celebrate their four month anniversary watching Galactica 1980, which Jim had gotten on DVD for Dwight, knowing the man had been wanting to watch it for some time. 

Jim sighed. He hated that he kept having horrid dreams about what happened, causing him to barely sleep, but he hated that he had a bad bout of flashbacks even more. But the thing he hated most was the secret he was keeping from Dwight. Jim kept telling himself he had to hide it, so they could keep moving on, but he still felt guilty that he was hiding something serious from his lover. Jim thought that no one ever truly told someone else everything about themselves, that every single person had secrets, and that he could keep this one. 

It was for the best Dwight didn’t know. Dwight would probably lose it if he did. He was already in his own head, thinking it was his fault for what happened, no matter how much Jim tried to convince him otherwise. There was no way Dwight could handle the thought that Jim is experiencing this.

It for the best -for the both of them- that Jim tried to ignore this and deal with the voices himself. Right? Or was it just because Jim didn’t want to face up to his lethargic mind? 

No, it was for the best, Jim decided. Still, his stomach twisted with guilt and he instinctively curled his shoulder inward. 

It is for the best, he told himself. It is for the best. 

“Are you sure?” Dwight asked. 

Jinn nodded wistfully. “I’m certain I won’t got to jail. Nothing I did warrants cell time, but I will be fired and on probation for a few months.” 

Dwight frowned. “What sort of probation do you think the judge will sentence you to?” 

Jinn drummed their fingers on their knee. “My guess would be lax house arrest.” 

Dwight sunk back into the couch. “You’ve just been fired, so you don’t have money for your apartment rent. What are you going to do?” 

Jinn shrugged. “I will not have enough savings left over after I pay all these damn fees, and there’s no way my father would take me in for a little while. He threatened to kick my ass if I ever showed up in front of him again,” they said and huffed a laugh of defeat. “Fuck, who knew they would hate me so much after I came out? If I had known he would react like that, I would have waited until I was eighteen to tell him, so I didn’t have to live under an overpass for two years.” 

Dwight patted his friend on the shoulder, unsure of what to say. Jinn was not a very open person, so when they talked about their personal problems, Dwight listened with perked ears and a shut mouth. Suddenly he remembered, “What about your brother, Brad?” He asked tentatively, trying to mask the desperate tone creeping under his voice. “He and you are pretty close, right?” 

“We are not that close,” Jinn said with a heavy sigh. “We are as close as a homophobe could be with his queer sibling. Besides, even if we were close enough for me to stay with him, he’s deployed overseas in Germany.” 

“Oh, wow,” Dwight murmured. “I didn’t know that he joined the army.” 

“It was pretty recent,” Jinn answered. “About half a year ago.” 

They fell in a thoughtful silence, each wondering where the hell Jinn would go after their rent was due two weeks from now. “Why don’t you just stay here?” Dwight blurted out.   
Jinn’s head whipped to the left, their hair swishing and green eyes sharp and shocked. “I couldn’t do that, Dwight,” they said. “It’s a real nice gesture but I couldn’t.” 

Dwight raised his eyebrow. He didn’t see why Jinn couldn’t stay. He figured he was also to blame for Jinn getting in this predicament, so why not offer them a place to stay? Besides, they had known each other for a good seven years, though only the last three could be counted as a legitament friendship. Even so, Jinn was head strong and independent. They didn’t take anything extended to them, ever, always insisting they could do it without help. Even when they had a broken arm and femur, they refused help. 

“Why can’t you?” Dwight asked, a slight test to his question. 

 

Jinn’s eyebrows furrowed, wrinkling their thick makeup. “I can’t step into your life like that.” 

‘But your life has no meaning, now does it?’ The snarky voice crackled from behind. 

Jim spun around in his stool and nearly fell, grabbing the edge of the bar to keep himself from teetering over onto the tiled floor below. That damned demonic voice startled him every time. His heart was racing, but all he saw was a refrigerator and a long counter covered in an assortment of kitchen utensils and machines. 

“Are you crazy?” Dwight’s disbelieving voice cut through Jinn’s mind. “This is partly my fault too, so I should help with the repercussions.” 

Jinn rubbed their itchy nose, wincing when their finger ground over the fresh nostril piercing, their anger flaring more by the millisecond. “Are you fucking with me right now?” They snapped. “I chose what I did. Nothing I do is influenced by others.” 

Dwight held up his hands in a plea of surrender. “Listen, I wasn’t trying to say you were, I am just saying I had a part in this failed plan, so I should help my partner out. Okay?” 

Jinn looked away and stared holes in the muted television, playing Wheel of Fortune. Fortune is bullshit, they thought and turned away from the TV before they got more pissed off.   
After Jinn collected their thoughts and realized that, yes, Dwight had been a part in this, though they chose to deviate from their calculated (albeit risky) plan. Still, there was something in them that prevented them from accepting the offer laid out before them. 

‘I don’t know,’ Jim thought wretchedly. ‘Does my life have worth?’ 

“I am not sure,” Jinn said, mirroring the second voice in Jim’s mind. 

Who was to judge whether or not someone’s life was full of want and happiness and worth? 

“I will think on your offer,” they said. 

Dwight gave a single nod. “Good.” 

Both trains of thought were left on an unclear note.


	20. Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are all human. We are all just flesh and blood with thoughts and feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I’m back after two months. What the shit. It feels good to be writing again. 
> 
> I kind of ghosted you all for two months. But I’m out of rehab, not snorting, and I’m writing once more. 
> 
> Now let’s get this show on the road. Be prepared for self harm in this chapter. If that bothers you, please put your safety first and don’t read.

Two weeks later, Jinn and Dwight walked out of the courthouse. Dwight was in shock and Jinn was seething with anger. 

"This is bullshit!" Jinn exclaimed. "Complete and utter bullshit!"

Dwight nodded in agreement. "Three months of house arrest is too lengthy, especially since people that do worse things than you get less time." 

Jinn slammed the passenger door or Dwight's red Camaro closed loudly. "Technically, I should not be getting house arrest. Period. Since it was minor battery, a restraining order should of been awarded to Stuart," Jinn continued exasperatedly. "The judge was extremely biased and intentionally screwed me over!"

Jinn was right. The judge was biased. Even so, he was the judge and his sentence was to be followed. Unless Jinn wanted to spend time incarcerated. Even so, Dwight didn't know what to say. He was still dumbfounded about the events that unfolded in the courtroom mere minutes ago. He just shrugged and put the car in reverse, then pulled out onto the two lane street. 

They both sat in silence for a long while, too long to be comfortable. Dwight turned his CD player on, letting the sounds of Red Hot Chili Peppers play at an easy listening volume. It wasn't until they were barely a mile out of Scranton than Jinn finally began to talk once more. 

"I've lost my job and my apartment," Jinn said, defeat weighing heavily in their voice. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" 

Dwight pursed his lips. He was annoyed that Jinn had not already accepted his offer. It was quite clear they had nowhere else to go. 

"Stay at my farmhouse until your house arrest is over. Get a job and then you move out," Dwight said simply. "Then you will be able to live alone, just like you prefer." 

Jinn stared at Dwight placidly. "You make it sound like this is not a huge deal, like my life hasn't turned to complete shit," they said. "But it has. And it is a larger problem than you realize."

Dwight stared at the road ahead of him and pressed down on the gas pedal, watching in his peripheral as pine trees framing the outside of the asphalt disappeared in a flurry.  

"I know it's a big deal," he replied after a long minute of heavy silence. "I'm not mocking you or placating you, I'm merely extending an invitation to a friend. That's why I am giving you a place to stay for now, until you can get back on your feet."

Jinn flattened their lips in a hard line. "Dwight, how can I accept your offer and stay at your place for three months? I wouldn't be contributing in the slightest!" They exclaimed. "I would be nothing more than a hindrance." 

"I disagree," Dwight countered. 

"How can you disagree with the fucking truth, Dwight?" 

"One: that's not the truth. Two: I'm the one who made the offer!" Dwight snapped irritatedly. "Accept it!" 

"No!" 

"Yes!" 

"No, Dwight!" 

"Damn it, Jinn, accept it!" 

"I can't!" 

"Yes, you can!" 

"No, I can't!" 

"You can, you just don't want to!" Dwight said erratically, making Jinn's eye twitch in annoyance.

Dwight was done with the back and forth. He snapped and yelled, "You have to! You have no other option!" 

Truthfully, Dwight was right, though Jinn had too much pride to admit it. They didn't have enough savings to pay rent. They didn't have anything. Jinn, worn out and defeated, huffed and pursed their lips, staring at the dirt road ahead of them. 

How stubborn, they both thought about the other. 

The silence was tense. Jinn finally spoke, asking, "The offer isn't out of pity, now is it?"

Dwight flipped his turn signal on and replied to them. "No, it isn't pity. It is me making an offer. Nothing more, nothing less." 

Jinn didn't respond, so Dwight figured they were satisfied with his response. They weighed over the offer and ultimately decided, "Alright, I'll stay with you so long as I can help."

Dwight spared them a quick glance and asked, "Help with what?" 

Jinn motioned their hand vaguely and replied, "Anything and everything. Cleaning, cooking, feeding animals, all of it. I insist on helping, and I'm not taking no for an answer. It's the least I can do especially with your gratuitous offer." 

Dwight tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel. "Alright," he agreed, giving Jinn a half smile. "You've got yourself a deal."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jim was pacing the floors of  the house, chewing his bottom lip raw. His jittery fingers continued tapping against his denim clad legs with no real reason other than moving. Keys jingled in the rusty locks of the front door, causing Jim's eyes to divert from where his bare feet were pattering along the hardwood and toward the front door. 

"Jim, I'm home!" Dwight called. Dwight always announced that it was him, just in case Jim assumed it was a robber. He never could read Jim well. 

Jim picked up Mystery, who was staring up at him from the ground, and carried her the way one would carry an infant into the foyer to greet his boyfriend and Jinn. Jim tried to shove down his feelings and voices, grit his teeth, and raised his lips upward in an attempt at a smile. 

Dwight's eyebrows raised at the obvious distress on his face, but didn't say anything for the time being. He put his suit jacket and Jinn's cardigan on the coat rack, turning to see Jinn move closer to Jim to get a better look at their cat. 

"Is that Mystery?" Jinn asked, eyes locked on the cat lying in Jim's arms. 

"Y-Yeah," Jim croaked, voice strained from lack of use and he coughed harshly. "Do you want to hold her?" He asked, his throat prickled with pain. 

Jinn smoothed their hands down their tight black dress that hit about knee high and replied, "Let me take my heels off first." 

Once their silver pumps were placed carefully out of the way, Jinn took Mystery from Jim's arms and held her, ignoring the fact that cat hair would get on their dress. Jinn loved cats enough to say 'who the hell cares about hair on my dress' and would play with and pet the cat. Mystery sniffed their dress and pawed at their flat chest. Jinn cracked a smile on their usually placid face and looked up to see the pair of boyfriends share a quick kiss. They looked away, feeling that they were intruding in their privacy by watching an intimate moment between the two of them. 

"I'm going to sit on the couch," Jinn said. 

Dwight nodded and said, "Sure. We will be there in a moment." 

The two waited until Jinn was down the hall before locking eyes again. Dwight studied Jim's green eyes. His eyes were worn and empty. 

"Are you okay?" Dwight asked in a low whisper. 

Jim nodded. "I'm fine." 

"Don't lie, Jim," Dwight said, worry leaking into his words. "What's wrong?" 

"Really, Dwight, it's nothing." 

Dwight raised an eyebrow but Jim said nothing. His eyes flickered over Jim's face once more before sighing. "Alright then," Dwight said with a shrug. "Well, Jinn got three months house arrest and will be staying with us until it's over." 

_Great, another person to hate your pathetic ass,_ the sneering feminine voice said to Jim. Jim bit his tongue. Hard. 

"Is that okay?" Dwight asked. 

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Yeah." 

Dwight stared again. He opened his mouth but decided not to ask again. He gave Jim a tight lipped smile and kissed him on the cheek. 

_Why are you such a liar, you little faggot?_ The voice of Mark sneered out from the depth. _You're a useless little queer. Is being a fag not enough for you? You have to be a little bitch too?_

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. 

_What the hell do you do all day anyway? All you do is sit around, sulking and feeling sorry for yourself. You do realize you have no purpose? No meaning? You're a waste of space, of oxygen. You're a waste of a human being._

Hot tears slid down his cheeks. 

_Mark was right to do that to you,_ the feminine voice that closely resembled his sister's voice said. _Too bad he failed; You should of had the queer beat out of you. Maybe it should have been fucked out of you._

Mark started up again. We tried that. This disgusting piece of shit wasn't even hard when he fucked the prostitute. 

The feminine voice cackled. She found it so amusing that Jim couldn't fuck a girl because he became so used to a dick up his ass. 

"Shut the hell up," Jim whispered, his voice thick and clogged. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. "Please, just stop."

They didn't stop. They pressed on. Jim's weak pleas were ineffective to the voices, because they were him after all. 

"Aren't they just the biggest group of dicks?" Jinn asked without really wanting a response. 

The two of them damn well knew the jury was unfair. They saw Jinn, a person who was unabashedly themself, and Dr. Stuart, a respected man within the community, and judged solely on their conceptions of the people in question. 

"People are scared of what they don't understand," Dwight said. He stared at the ceiling, mind lost in thought. "It's only natural." 

"That doesn't mean they should harass people solely because they are something they don't understand." 

"That's true. That's very true." 

_It's the truth, queer,_ Mark spat. _The truth hurts doesn't it?_

It really did. Jim's chest was tight and he couldn't catch his breath. His head was between his knees, arms wrapped tight around them. 

_You are a useless little shit. You always half-ass everything,_ Mark said matter of factory. _You are selfishly staying with your 'boyfriend', leeching off his hard work. Do something. Bleed. Fucking bleed for us._

"Would that make you happy?" Dwight asked. 

Jinn looked over at him. "Would what make me happy?" 

"If people weren't scared of the LGBT community." 

"Well, of course it would. But the stigma around the LGBT community is more complex than people simply not being worried. They want to see you bleed. They want to see if you're just like them," Jinn said, trailing their finger over the scar underneath their foundation on their cheekbone. "Once they see we are the same flesh and bones they are, they feel ashamed they were wrong. Of course they can't be wrong, it must be you who is wrong. It's a constant cycle." 

Sadly, Jinn was right. "It makes me angry that people are so stuck up their own ass they won't observe a fellow human as their own," Dwight said. 

"You're right," Jim said to Mark. "I have to do something. I-I have to bleed." 

_Of course I'm right, pussy. Now get up and slice your arm. Let it bleed._

Jim stumbled through the hallways and up the stairs. He slammed the bathroom door closed, locked it, and double checked the lock. He fumbled through the drawers, trying to find the refill pack of razor blades. 

"Fuck!" He exclaimed. He couldn't seem to locate the damn things. He fell to the ground harshly, his tailbone sending a sharp pain up his back. "Shit, that hurt!" 

It hurt, but it seems that's what he needed to feel. He needed to feel pain again. He needed to feel something other than lonesome and worthless. He wanted to fucking feel again. 

Jim crawled back over to the stack of drawers and started throwing things out haphazardly, only one goal on his mind. Finally, he found it. He felt like he could cry with relief. Jim ripped open the pack, sending the thin blades tumbling to the floor. 

_Pick it up off the floor, you filthy gay whore,_ Mark said. _You like using things that are nasty, don't you? You like using your asshole to cum._

Jim picked up the blade, watching with rapture as it seemed to slice into his left forearm on its own accord. The sting of the blade was payment for his sins. The red droplets that beaded to the surface of the skin were beauty. The droplets falling to the floor were the stain of truth. Truth that he was bleeding, feeling, alive. That he was doing something. That he was something. 

He desperately wanted to be something. What exactly he wanted to be he didn't know. All he knew was he wanted his name to be known to the people who mattered to him. 

He wanted to bleed more.


End file.
